


Acclimation:  Jensen's Journey

by spn_j2fan



Series: Journey 'verse [2]
Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Claiming, Collars, Dubious Consent, M/M, Marking, Mild D/s, Orgasm Denial, Space Opera, Spanking, journey 'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spn_j2fan/pseuds/spn_j2fan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whether by choice or chance, Jensen slowly becomes accustomed to his new life. He gradually learns what he can about Fayar, and Fayar learns from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N #1: This story is complete. It is the second in the Journey 'verse, following directly after [The Journey of the Prince of Fayar](http://archiveofourown.org/works/887684). I will do my best to edit and post either every day or every other day until it is all here. Please take the time to let me know what you think.
> 
> A/N #2: While there is no non-con in this story, the overall theme of the 'verse is dependent upon what has already happened, so I will continue to use the warning as I post.
> 
> A/N #3: There are so many characters that pop in and out, many are CW/SPN actors, but some are OC's. Do you want me to continue to list them all as they show up throughout the 'verse?

Three weeks had passed. Three weeks of frustration and avoidance. Three weeks of coddling and making allowances. Three weeks since they left the planet his mate formerly called home. Certainly, the prince’s relationship with his young mate had not improved. In fact, if it were possible, things might had actually gotten worse.

Jared was in a small library, the smallest one on the ship. He favored it for its seclusion. He stood by a portal and looked out into the depths of space, gazing upon distant, shimmering stars. Once they left the last vapor levels surrounding Pershebe, he had ordered all portals unshielded, except those in his rooms, hoping to entice his mate out of their residence quarters with curiosity about space and stars, if nothing else.

“What are you doing here?” A familiar voice grumbled from behind.

Jared smiled without turning around. He would recognize that voice anywhere. General Beaver was his closest, most loyal military ally. He had been there ever since Jared was a small child. He even played games with the young heir. Oh, they might not be the kind of games most four-year-olds played, but they were fun, and they subtly enticed the prince into the life of a warrior with ease and joviality.

Without fear, Jared headed into his first battle at the tender age of sixteen. Even then, he was prepared. He was a skilled fighter, he had the training and he had the confidence that could only come after twelve long years as the apprentice of the most talented military officer ever to serve Fayar. General Beaver had never dedicated so much time to one youth, not even a royal, before Jared. The heir owed much to the older man.

“I fear I am lost,” Jared whispered. This was the only man to whom he could reveal his weaknesses. In fact, the general insisted on it from a young age. After all, how could Jared improve if he did not recognize his weak points?

“Lost?” The general questioned, a scowl furrowing his brow. “We are on course. There are seven loyal battle ships escorting us in case we come across some reckless bands of privateers or warriors who do not know better than to attack a Fayarian Royal vessel. You have found your mate, and we have nearly two years to plan how we will face your father. In what way are you lost?”

“I have lost my personal battle,” Jared admitted. “I promised my mother, in her dying moments, that I would treat my captured mate with kindness and compassion. She assured me that I would win the love and respect of my life’s companion through adoration, not force. And even in this, I have failed her.”

“Paahh!” The general spat. “You would give up already? You are not the warrior—the Prince!—I have counseled all these years!”

Jared pulled back from the portal and turned abruptly. “What are you saying?!” He demanded.

“How old were you, Jared?” General Beaver growled, “Six annums when your mother finally passed after years of suffering from an unknown illness? How could you not have promised anything? Even more than you could have possibly understood at the time.”

“It does not change the result,” the prince insisted. “I have made a mess of things. I desire him every moment of every day, yet he resists my every command. Even my simplest attempts at kindness are met with sullen resentment.”

The general took a step back to evaluate his protégé and liege more easily. “I think you do not value your mastery as well as others do,” he began. “The guardsmen quickly spread the word that your mate lay nestled and unresisting in your arms as you exited the bath. And the Keepers have reported that he is docile when they enter your quarters to clean. They even swore under oath that they witnessed the proof of your claim by the blood on your sheets. What more could you ask for?”

“I crave a companion, not a servant,” Jared responded. “I want to show him all that surrounds him, yet he will not even leave our residence willingly. If you truly want to know what I desire at this point, it is for my mate to wander unrestrainedly and inquisitively about the ship, in search of answers to the questions his new world poses.”

“So,” the general postulated, “He has not left your quarters since the Claiming, and you have not forced such a capitulation?” When Jared dropped his eyes from those of his closest ally, the general had his answer. He sucked in a breath to steady himself before continuing. “Okay. What efforts have you made to coax your mate out of your residence?”

The conversation was a bit unsettling, but General Beaver was more of a father figure to the prince than Jared's own sire, so if there was anyone he could discuss his problem with, it was the general. “Jensen,” Jared replied softly.

“What?” Beaver responded.

“Jensen. His name is Jensen.” Jared never raised his eyes as he spoke. It was an odd sensation.

“Gods, son!” The general exclaimed. “You have feelings for the boy, I understand, but do not allow them to cloud your judgment. You know full well that the boy—Jensen—will adjust better, and more easily, if he can accept his position--”

“I have not been so lenient as you imply,” the prince interrupted haughtily. “I have not allowed him to lie in my bed since I staked my claim. I made it clear that it was a privilege he would have to request.”

Jared thought about it for a moment. The small nest of blankets next to his grand bed had felt more warmth than the heir had for these past three weeks. The prince had actually expected Jensen to seek comfort and shelter in his arms. He could not have been more wrong. Each night, as Jensen tucked himself neatly into the folds of his miniature sanctuary, Jared felt his mate growing farther away from him, not closer.

“And you think that will draw him out?” The general’s question was more of an accusation than anything else. “He wants nothing to do with you now. How can this method help?”

“I do not need the reminder,” Jared grimaced. “I have learned that lesson well.” Despite the soft caresses and kisses he showered upon his mate for even the simplest reasons, Jensen never offered the slightest hint that he returned the prince’s regard.

“Do not alter that requirement,” the general asserted, gently guiding the young prince toward a strategy that might result in a win, even if it was a small one. “Now that you have set that standard, as much as you would like to rescind it, you must not. Your mate will need the reassurance of your strength and resolve.”

“Then what would you suggest I do?” Jared finally met his mentor’s eyes. “As I said, I am lost.”

The general huffed, disguising a grin. It had been a long time since young love and hormones had so easily superseded the old warrior’s good judgment. “So…you must take something from him that he desires more than anything else.” There was a sparkle in the older man’s eye that was not there moments earlier. It was a wicked, devilish plan, but one that would bring both fiery young men together sooner rather than later. “Take something from him that he feels lost without.”

Jared thought for a moment, and nodded his understanding. It made sense, and he knew exactly what to do.

“But don’t stop there,” the general warned. “At the exact moment he realizes what you are demanding, offer a reward for his acceptance. Be cautious, as you have always been in negotiations with conquered worlds. You have a gift for it, you and I both know it. Do not lose that in the midst of blossoming love. It will serve you better now than ever before. If your reward is too obvious, if it looks like bait, he will resist you even more resolutely. And at this point, you do not need a fight. You have a far greater battle ahead of you, and a willing mate at your side will help you prepare for what awaits us as we approach Fayar.”

Jared nodded even as he walked away, a solid plan in his head. His greatest advisor was also his most valued friend, and the general's advice could not have come at a better time. The prince knew exactly what he needed to do.

____________________

Jensen slowly swirled the malleable stick around the bowl of water that contained a dozen or so of his prized Pelunga berries. He gently prodded at the small spheres, ensuring that each tiny orb was fully immersed in the water, while doing his best to avoid bruising any of his precious fruit at the same time. He peered into the clear vas from the side to make sure the roots were sprouting evenly and in good condition. The rest of his cache withered away in the basket, waiting for the moment that they would be best suited for juicing; that was if Jensen found a way to sever them from their liquid in this foreign environment. What did it matter, really? He had no test subjects or equipment to use. No. His precious stash was surely lost to him. And now, these few rooting berries were his only reminder of the life he once considered his own.

He was alone, and glad for it. Each night he huddled in the blankets at the foot of the bed, only nodding off after he heard the telltale sounds of the prince’s slumber. He rose early and restlessly each morn, exhausted but grateful that he had avoided his captor’s bed for another night.

That first morning had been excruciating, both physically and emotionally. When Jensen woke, the prince was warm behind him, an arm draped casually across Jensen’s chest. Everything ached. Never before had he experienced such a sensation. Perhaps that was what every Pershebian youth felt when they offered their gift. But Jensen had not offered. He had not.

Jensen remembered slipping away from the prince slowly, hoping not to awaken the other man. He suppressed a hiss as he rose from the bed. And another when he looked down upon the crimson droplets that stained the linens. Jensen didn’t bother reaching back to touch his nether regions; he knew he was the source.

It still gave him chills to think about that day, even three weeks after. His rapist had not pushed for more than an occasional kiss or caress since then, but every time Jared’s fingers brushed his flesh, the young Pershebian recalled the moment he lost all that he was. He remained silent and docile, not that he had anything left to lose, but he would not offer more.

Today began no different than any other. He had awoken tangled in the blankets on the floor. When he made his way out of them, he crossed the room and tended to his berries. He didn’t have anything else to do. Once the prince rose, he cleaned himself, ate, and bestowed a few kind, but unwanted words and kisses upon Jensen, as usual.

Just like every day, Jared had offered to show Jensen around the ship. The heir would touch his shoulder, gently guiding the younger man toward the door. And like every day before this day, Jensen ducked down and shrugged away from the touch. Not making eye contact, he shook his head adamantly every time Jared suggested they gaze out upon the stars, or visit a library or eatery on the Royal vessel.

Jensen was well aware that most, if not all, of the members of the prince’s staff knew of his despoiling, and he had no desire to make himself the object of further ridicule. It was difficult enough when the Keepers—that was what Jared called them—came to tidy the residence. They knew what had happened to him here, even if they never let on. It was all Jensen could do to remain in the same room when they entered. He could not raise his eyes to see their expressions, yet alone venture beyond the doors as the prince suggested. He would sit, huddled in a corner, as the Keepers did their work. He wasn’t sore anymore, but each time they gathered the sheets and took them away, Jensen pictured those crimson stains.

The door sliding open startled Jensen. The Keepers had already come and gone, and it wasn’t yet time for the midday meal. No one entered the prince’s quarters between those two marks on the clock.

Jensen gasped and pulled the stick out of the bowl when Jared entered and the door closed behind him. Why had the prince returned so soon? It couldn’t be for any good reason, and Jensen shrunk away, trying to blend in with the wall.

As always, Jared’s eyes found him immediately and the older man made his way to Jensen’s side. Today he held something in his hand as he approached. Jensen did not try to figure out what it was; he simply turned away and pretended not to notice the heir’s advance.

Jared snuggled behind him and took a deep breath of his scent. It made Jensen tremble every time.

“They look different than the ones still in the basket. Why did you place them in water?” The prince asked, looking at the bowl of berries and completely ignoring the look of concern on Jensen’s face.

“They look different because they still live,” Jensen replied stoically. “Those in the basket are dead to me—like my family and my home.”

“Mmmm,” Jared breathed in again, his lips skimmed across the back of Jensen’s neck. “I wish I could give you your family, but I assure you that you still have a home. Your home will always be with me.”

“Liar!” Jensen screamed, trying, but failing, to pull himself away from the prince’s grasp. “Liar and rapist! What other titles should I add? Is that why you have returned so early today?”

Jared took another deep breath to calm himself and dropped whatever he was holding to place his hand across Jensen’s mouth. “You may hurl any name or accusation at me in private, and in a tone that will not be heard beyond these walls,” he warned. “But if you insult me publicly, you will pay for it publicly.”

He loosened his grip and Jensen quickly pulled away. His eyes followed as the prince bent over to pick up his bundle.

“Here,” Jared tossed the tome to Jensen. Jensen instinctively caught it. “It is a Reader for young Fayarians. You must learn your new language. I will teach you the letters, and then you can learn more on your own.”

Jensen let it fall like a heavy weight his fingers could no longer bear. “I—I am Pershebian,” he stammered. “I have already learned my letters.”

Jared grinned, and that just angered Jensen further. “You were Pershebian. It is no longer an option for you. And I think you might wish to converse with someone other than me when we arrive on Fayar, so I think you might even want to learn the language. There is no shame in learning a new language, is there?” He turned away for a moment. Jensen remained silent, sensing that the prince had more to say. “It is nearly time for the midday meal. Come eat with me. There is a lovely eatery just two levels below us. After that, we could visit the closest agritory if you like. The agricians are responsible for growing our entire perishable food supply while we are far from home. You might even find a soil there that is suitable for your berries.”

Jensen drew in a deep breath as he did every time Jared made his offer to venture out of the residence quarters. He feared that soon it would no longer be his choice. Dropping his head, he replied in a soft voice, “I cannot. You know well that I cannot. Do what you will with me, but I will not go out willingly, thus defiled.”

“Pick up your book,” Jared demanded, much of his earlier tenderness gone. “Wash yourself before we eat.”

“I am clean,” Jensen replied.

“I will decide if you are clean. I can smell you from five feet away. Take a bath!” The prince used the tone he would in issuing any command that he expected to be obeyed without hesitation. “Go, now!” He added for emphasis.

The bath in the prince’s quarters was nearly as large as the one Jensen was dumped into his first day on the Royal vessel. So far, he had successfully avoided it. It brought memories to the forefront of his mind—memories he would most like to forget. He had yet to strip and drop beneath the surface of the water. On most days, he merely dipped a cloth in the warm bath and used it to clean what parts of his body most needed it. Every other day, he dipped his long hair in the small pool, and lathered it with soap. Apparently that wasn’t good enough for the prince. And judging by the Fayarian’s tone, Jensen did not have long to comply.

He dropped the book on a small table and turned from the prince. Grabbing a change of clothing from the supply the prince had provided, Jensen quickly made his way to the other room and closed the door behind him. There were too many images of the prince and the bath in his head already, he did not wish to add to them this day.

After several minutes in the warm, luxurious water, Jensen found himself relaxing despite the occasional image in his head. His eyelids dipped, and twice he sputtered as his head drifted below the water's surface. It had been some time since he had a good night’s sleep, and the warm relaxation of his muscles added to his drowsiness. He adjusted his position just enough that his head leaned against the cool, smooth ledge, and allowed his eyes to close. For just a moment, was his last thought.

The rap on the door startled the young Pershebian from his nap. “Jensen!” Jared called, “Answer me, or I will come in!”

“I j-just fell asleep,” Jensen slurred, “I am clean. I will be right out.”

Jensen stood and scanned the room for his towel. It was nowhere in sight. He shook as much water from his hair and limbs as he could, and stepped out of the tub. He combed his fingers through his hair, pulling it back behind his ears and wringing out the excess liquid. When he felt the droplets of water dripping down his back lessen, he stepped toward the counter where he left his clean clothes. They were not there. So he turned, searching for the items he had dropped on the floor when he stripped. Those, too, had disappeared.

“Jared?” His voice quivered even as he attempted to remain calm.

“Come out,” the prince demanded. “I cannot hear you through the door.”

He could not. There was no way he could cross the room and open the door as he was. He cleared his throat and continued in a louder tone, “Jared? I cannot come out; I have no clothing. Not even a cloth to cover myself.”

“I cannot hear you,” Jared continued, “Do you wish me to enter?”

Jensen froze in place. He did not want the prince to enter, but he was entirely unable to move. He did his best to turn sideways, minimizing the prince’s view of either his front or his back, before he replied humbly. “Come in, and please bring me some clothing.”

The door opened immediately. There was no doubt that Jared had been standing close on the other side. “Clothing?” The heir questioned. “Why would you require clothing? I have seen you, the Keepers are of no consequence, and you refuse to leave our residence quarters. I would prefer to keep you unclothed.”

“No!” Jensen shrieked, turning to the prince and covering his most important parts from view. “Please, do not take this from me!” He begged.

“I do not want a slave, Jensen,” The prince’s voice turned soft once again. “I wish to have a companion. One who will walk the many lengths of this ship at my side—alone even, when I am unavailable. This is to be your home for nearly two annums. I want you happy in your new life, and the quicker you learn to accept your position, the sooner that will be possible.”

Jared took a deep breath and expelled it, staring directly into Jensen’s eyes. It was difficult. He had to get close and dip low so that his mate’s lowered gaze met his own. “So as much as you hate my choices. It is once again yours to make. You may remain here, naked, with only the Keepers and myself to see. And if that is your choice, I promise that I will not push you out the doors. Or you may earn your clothing by willingly leaving these quarters, and discovering new areas of this vessel. What will it be, Jensen?”

The young Pershebian hesitated. Once again, he really had no choice. It was a daily humiliation to face the Keepers clothed. To do so naked was more than he could tolerate. Yet he couldn’t give in so easily. Giving in to the prince had already proven ill.

“So,” he carefully calculated his words, “You wish me to leave these rooms—with or without you—and find my life here? You think that I can so easily forget all that I had?”

“Not forget,” Jared’s voice continued softly. He slowly neared the beautiful youth, and wrapped an arm around his damp waist. The prince wanted to press a kiss to those quivering lips, but he held back. “Keep them in your heart and your mind as precious memories that prepared you for the life you now lead.”

“Precious memories!” Jensen spat, again struggling against the prince's firm grip. “You think it is just my life you have changed? Stolen? Today on Pershebe, a mother mourns the theft of her only son, a father grieves the loss of his successor, and a noble Fighter lost not only his best friend, but his life as well, trying to defend me. A sacrifice I now realize was more than I deserved. How can you think it is so easy?”

“I never implied that this would be easy for you,” Jared continued. He held the younger man tightly, and placed soft kisses along the length of his neck. It mattered not at this moment if Jensen desired the attention. He would get used to such treatment. “Your friend. Is that the man whom the Presages found you with? The man for whom you abandoned your flight in order to defend?”

Jensen nodded, again trying to fight off the tears that threatened to fall. Christian had been a good friend. He was a good Fighter. Given time, he was sure to be one of the best Pershebe would ever see. It hurt to know that he was the reason that Chris would never have that chance. Again, he tried to pull away.

“Do not fight me, Jensen,” the prince warned. “I have already proven that I can take you whenever I want. Today would not be a good time to test that.” Once Jensen settled in his place, Jared continued, “Your mother misses you, this is true. Your father suffers the loss of his son, but the Elders will compensate him with another strong youth. I know this from the journals kept from previous journeys. It is not the same, but he will still have a son to follow his path, and a young man with no family will gain one.”

Jensen startled with that revelation, and lifted his eyes to meet the prince’s. This time Jared could not resist. He took those lips in a soft kiss. He did not seek entrance, just settled for placing a chaste kiss upon them, and then gently tracing them with his tongue. Jared pulled back with his eyes closed, and a sigh escaped him.

“As for your brave friend,” Jared went on, “He did not die that day. He was merely stunned into unconsciousness. Do not think for a moment that my men lacked the ability to end his life. I made the decision to avoid bloodshed. And I am glad for it. Your friend lives to defend his world another day. But he will have no memory of our presence.”

“Chris is alive?” Jensen questioned. He tried to hide the hope in his voice, but feared that he failed even in this.

Jared raised a brow and assessed his mate. “Did this Fighter mean more to you than mere friendship?” He was tense. Only a pure mate was acceptable, and the Ritualists on Fayar would know if Jensen had been with anyone other than the heir. Without a successful Claiming, Jared would be deemed unfit for the throne.

“I think he wished it,” Jensen whispered. Even now, his pride was too strong to deny that his gift had been intact when the prince stole it from him. “Although he did not share all the details. I was not yet of sufficient age…”

Jared’s loud exhale silenced him. “Just know that your friend lives and that your parents will be compensated for their loss and their silence.” His tone was again firm. He used the hand around Jensen’s waist to explore the exposed skin, reminding the younger man of his position. “Now you must decide. Clothing and venture beyond the walls of these quarters, or naked and remain within. Which will it be?”

Jensen didn’t shrink away from the prince’s touches. They were becoming all too familiar. He weighed his options carefully. “So…I may have clothing and leave this room, with or without you?” He asked.

“Yes,” Jared agreed, seeing this precise moment as time to up the ante. “Perhaps I could take you to the nearest agritory before we eat, and you can see if the soils there are suitable for your purposes. There are many different types.”

Again, Jensen paused before he continued. He even lifted his chin and allowed the prince uninhibited access to his neck. It was better than his lips. “And do you have scientific laboratories where I might find the equipment to extract the nectar from my dying berries?” He questioned.

Jared’s eyes fluttered closed; he sensed victory. His lips trailed up the length of his mate’s neck, and back down again. He took in another deep whiff of Jensen’s intoxicating scent. “Yes, labs can be made available,” he agreed.

“It is a deal then.” Jensen pulled away immediately. “Give me my clothing and draw me a map.”

“A map?” Jared recovered from the loss of his mate’s heat quickly. “Why would you need a map?”

“To get to the ag—agritory?” He stated, hoping that was the correct word. “And the laboratory after that.”

“You need no map,” Jared began, already gathering an outfit that would suit his mate beyond the doors of their quarters. He was delighted with the progress. “I can take you there easily. The rest of the day is ours.”

“Did you not suggest that I should be comfortable walking throughout the vessel alone?” Jensen asserted. “If I must venture beyond these rooms to earn clothing, than I wish to do so of my own accord.” He did not even attempt to hide the disgust in his voice.

“You do not know the Fayarian language,” Jared insisted.

“I can follow a map,” Jensen countered. He stopped for a moment, carefully gauging just how far he could push without overtly insulting the prince and ending any semblance of negotiations completely. “I thought you wished for me to be happy. Give me this, and I vow to learn your words.”

The prince had not come here with the intent to bargain so heavily, but the offer his mate made was more than he could turn aside. “With me,” Jared asserted. “You will learn your letters with me and no one else.”

“Agreed,” Jensen tilted his head.

“And the guards will accompany you until I believe you will do yourself no harm,” Jared continued. “I will not have you venture into the labs only to slice your own throat.”

“I will not do so, you have my word. But if your guards must follow, I ask only that they do not touch me or talk to me. I would also ask that they say nothing of my presence to your…agricians? Is that an acceptable request?”

“It is indeed acceptable,” the prince acknowledged. “I would not have any other touch you. And if you are uncomfortable speaking for now, that can wait. But I believe that the agricians may provide you with useful knowledge. Do not dismiss them so easily.”

“Thank you, My Lord,” Jensen replied. It seemed the perfect time for such platitudes. “I am certain that I can learn from your agricians in the future. Now, please allow me to dress while you draw your map.”

“A hug first,” Jared countered, still in bargaining mode. “Give me a hug to assure me that you mean your words. I savor every touch of your skin.”

Jensen didn’t hesitate. After the weeks of pawing he had thus far endured, a hug was but a rudimentary surrender. He allowed himself to be enfolded in the other man’s long arms.

“I hope that someday you find comfort here, with me,” Jared whispered against his ear. After he pulled back, the prince used two fingers to gently guide Jensen’s still damp hair behind his ear. “You truly are beautiful. Do not be afraid to show that.”

“How do I get out…and back in when I return?” Jensen responded. He really couldn’t come up with a more lucid thought. The prince was his only source of companionship and conversation, and no matter how much he struggled to fight it, Jensen did receive some comfort from those arms.

“The panel beside the door is programmed for your eye scan as well as mine. You need only glance at the panel to open it,” Jared explained. “But if ever there is a time you require my presence, you need only blink twice in its direction. In every room aboard this ship there is a panel. I want you to visit them all.”

“So I am free to venture about?” Jensen questioned. “Anywhere I wish to go?”

“Yes, eventually,” Jared responded. “But for now, I would prefer that you go to only the places we have discussed.”

“Why would that be?” Jensen scowled, “Am I considered a child to be counseled and instructed?”

“No, not at all,” the prince continued. “You are simply new to a space vessel, and I would like to ensure your safety.”

“So, as your mate, I have reason to be concerned?” Jensen questioned.

“That is not my intent.” The heir was slightly flustered. He felt himself on the cusp of victory, but without the satisfaction that accompanied it. “You are safe here, I just do not wish you to become lost.”

“And your guardsmen would allow that to happen?” Jensen queried again. “With them on my tail, is it possible for me to take a wrong turn?”

Jared let out another breath, never before had he allowed a conquered world such latitude. But this was not simply an occupied planet; Jensen was his mate—his life’s companion. For this reason, he would offer more concessions.

“No, Jensen. They will not allow you to veer off course,” Jared began. He would allow his mate much, but not without a stern warning, “Remember though, that if you attempt to subvert my authority by launching accusations about me, the guardsmen will bind your hands and feet, and return you to my quarters without a second’s hesitation.”

Jensen dropped his eyes. The only things he wanted right now were solitude and clothing, and he sensed that he was on the verge of receiving both.

“Okay,” Jared huffed, tossing the clothing to Jensen. “Put these on. You have two hours to venture on you own, and then I will expect your company back here. Do not seek out an eatery. I will expect you to dine with me.”

Jensen sighed as softly as he could. He did not want the prince to hear him. “Thank you, My Lord. I appreciate your generous offer, and you will not regret it.” He wondered silently if he would have the opportunity to find his path to the Great Darkness, or if it would have to wait for another day. Perhaps he would have to wait until the prince had more trust in him. “I will return for the midday meal,” he added as he slipped into the bathroom to dress.

Jared waited patiently for his mate to return. This interaction had not been an outright win, but it was better than the stalemate he had encountered for the past three weeks.

“Pay me with a kiss,” the heir suggested. “Let me know that my goodwill is not misplaced.”

Jensen didn’t hesitate. He offered his lips to the prince, even returning the gesture to some degree. He had always taken clothing for granted, but never again. After today, he would find places around the prince’s quarters to stash them away. He did not ever want to allow the prince the opportunity to use his nakedness as a bargaining chip again. Perhaps if he learned to anticipate the heir’s choices, he could plan for them in advance.

He allowed the prince a kiss and a caress upon his cheek. He even remained still as Jared once again played with his hair and pulled it away from his face.

As Jensen left the residence, map in hand, the idea of planning his response to the prince’s further demands left him with a smile on his face. And as he passed through the doors for the first time on his own two feet, he paused long enough to glance back and make sure the door would open upon his demand. It did.

______________________

Jared was delighted. He fell into a chair and laughed. It had not been perfect, that was certain, but he had achieved much today. He would have preferred to show his mate around the ship, introducing him to all the most romantic spots, but even a small acquiescence was a win at this point.

He watched as Jensen passed through the doors, and glanced down at the map Jared had drawn for him. There were many maps of the ship available, even directories mounted in various places along the corridors. But they were all in Fayarian, so until Jensen learned the language, he would have to rely on the heir’s directions. That suited Jared just fine.

He watched as the younger man turned a corner, the four loyal guardsmen following closely behind. Jared had no worries. Even his mate’s precious berries remained in the residence quarters. Jensen was obviously scoping out the territory before he moved them from their temporary home. The general had been correct, as always. Threatening a loss while offering a reward was definitely the right path to take with his terrified companion.

Jared rarely took time off from his duties early in the day, but right now, he felt he had earned a few moments of sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen finds a friend...and a compromise.

Jensen used the cloth wrapped around his neck to wipe the drops of sweat from his brow. The sensation was becoming familiar, and reminded him more and more of his father’s farm. The agritory was overly warm, no matter when he visited. And he found himself visiting at all times of day and evening. He did not know if it was different at night, although he expected not, but Jared had absolutely refused to allow him to leave his residence after the evening meal. Apparently, that time was reserved for just the two of them.

In many ways, being away from the prince’s quarters during the Keepers’ visits was refreshing. He no longer cowered in the corner, hoping that they would complete their tasks and be on their way without noticing his presence. But in other ways, the simple act of venturing about the ship was incredibly humiliating despite the fact that Jared had kept his word, and the guardsmen who followed his every movement never touched him or uttered a word.

On occasion, when Jensen veered from his usual course, one of them might clear his throat and gesture toward the correct corridor. But other than that, and, of course, the fact that Jensen knew they were aware of his lowly status, he could pretend they were not even there. That was just the problem though: they knew—they all knew—exactly what Jensen had lost. So each time he glanced at the guardsmen, passed someone in a corridor, or even opened the agritory door to see a Fayarian standing on the other side ready to walk out, he was reminded of exactly what he had left: nothing. And each time, he reached up and touched the cloth he had carefully wrapped around his neck, to ensure that the fine chain remained hidden beneath.

The guardsmen’s presence did prevent one thing though—He had not found a single path to the Great Darkness. He had given his oath that he would not slit his own throat. He thought it likely that Jared believed he had sworn not to follow the path at all, but that hadn’t been Jensen’s intention when he made the promise. When the prince forced the contingent of soldiers upon him, he had sworn not to slit his own throat, and nothing more.

The guardsmen were certainly a cumbersome burden along his path. Occasionally, one or more of the men would leave the agritory for a short period of time. That was promising. Perhaps with time and trust, they might all leave at once, and Jensen had already searched for implements that would enable him to begin his final journey. He even recognized plants here that would do the job nicely.

Jensen assumed the heat and stench bothered the guards, but as for himself, the smells were all familiar—like home. And that itself was another mystery. He felt the different soils, ran his fingers through them and lifted the grains to his nose to get a whiff. Thus far, there wasn’t a single unfamiliar soil in the entire agritory.

The dark, sticky soil that stuck to itself and separated as clumps rather than individual granules was exactly like the soil where his father grew some of the tall, rich grasses that fed his large work animals. But it was no good as it was here, it required the addition of organic materials—the dried leaves and other plant materials, and the animal excrement—that kept the soil from clumping together so solidly that it lacked air pockets and baked solid in the High-heat quarter-turn. He shook his head in disgust. What a waste of good, nutritious soil!

The dust-colored coarse dirt was just like that which lay along the Pershebian coastlines and riverbanks. It was good for growing some of the succulent plants that required vast underground reservoirs of water and never lost their leaves—not even during the Resting quarter-turn. And in the agritory, several of the plants that grew in that soil looked just like what he was used to seeing at home.

On his second day in the agritory, Jensen found a huge plot of plains’ soil just awaiting cultivation. It was rich and alive with roots, rhizomes and bulbs, like it was secretly scheming to provide the best source of nutrients for Jensen’s rooting berries. Not many bushes grew in the plains, mostly grasses and wild flowers, but the exact same soil that nourished those beautiful flowers, sustained the Pelunga bushes year after year. They would remain healthy in years of drought and years of flood. But it was only in full-turns of moderate rainfall, mild temperatures, and the perfect blend of sun and shade—like the one Pershebe had just seen—that the berries flourished.

He raked through the loam to aerate it daily, sporadically adding a bit of extra water or opening a nearby vent to get the lighting just right. As soon as he was satisfied with the plot, he would plant his surviving berries there. If all went right, they might just outlive him.

On his sixth day in the agritory, a young man was working on a plot of dark, sticky soil when Jensen arrived. Jensen assumed he was one of the agricians, and was angry at first. The prince had promised not to mention his presence to the agritory workers. It only took a moment for that anger to evaporate. The young man glanced at him for a moment, and offered a soft smile and kind eyes that reminded him of Christian’s. They were a little darker shade of blue than his lost friend’s, but they held a similar sympathy and familiarity. While he appeared young, he also seemed to have turned a few more tides than Jensen had. It was possible that the young man was close to the prince’s age. Jensen settled into place next to the other man and spent his time in silence, carefully cultivating his plot.

The next day, Jensen arrived just a little earlier and gathered some of the dried leaves, stems, and grasses from several nearby boxes. When the blue-eyed agrician showed up, and began to plant seedlings in the thick soil, Jensen coughed and shook his head.

The Fayarian stopped suddenly and froze in place. He did not even lift his head to see what Jensen was trying to explain. So instead of making a feeble attempt at communication, Jensen merely tossed the heap of debris he had gathered on top of the sticky soil and started raking it in. It was hard work, the thick soil resisted the intrusion, but Jensen kept at it until the other man joined in with his own rake, and they worked together until the mass of organic material disappeared completely.

When the agrician again attempted to plant his seedlings, Jensen shook his head and pointed at the door. It would be time for him to leave soon, and he hoped the other man would understand that the soil required additional treatment.

The closest guardsman cleared his throat and nodded toward the door himself. Jensen knew better than to stay longer than he was allowed, at least at this point. So he gathered his equipment and began to return the implements to their places.

“Misha,” the blue-eyed man mumbled. If he hadn’t seen them earlier, Jensen would not have known what color they were, the man’s gaze was focused straight down at the ground.

“Jensen,” the Pershebian responded immediately. He held out his hand and waited to see what the other would do. As Misha timidly extended his own and raised his head just enough to see Jensen’s face, it was the first moment since the Taking that Jensen felt a glimmer of life within him. “Des laxus,” he offered as they shook. He knew the agrician would not understand that he intended to see him the next day, but it felt good to speak to someone other than Jared.

Perhaps the prince was right. Jensen might need to work harder on this new language.

____________________

 

The news of Jensen’s initial interaction with the agrician reached Jared via one of the guardsmen early in the afternoon, and reports continued to stream in even as the young men exchanged words for the first time. So by the time Jensen returned to the prince’s quarters, Jared had already spent hours stewing over it.

The prince used the hours wisely, weighing his options carefully. What approach would work best? He decided to confront his mate upon his arrival, and see in which direction that led. He knew that if nothing else, he would have to spend more time discussing Fayarian history and politics with Jensen. And he knew beyond a doubt that he would end this evening marking his territory, so that by morning, none on this ship could miss Jared’s claim.

Jared thought about how well Jensen was settling into the ship’s routine, even searching for ways to be useful. It was obvious already that Jensen would be an incredible companion. Every Pershebian-Fayarian match had contributed significantly to the empire, and the prince was certain his own match was destined for greatness as well.

The Ritualists often spoke of Jared’s match, and how his Pershebian mate would strengthen Fayar. And while he questioned it in his youth, he knew better now. It was only in the last twenty-five or so years—since Magre returned to Fayar with a non-Pershebian mate—that the empire had shown the slightest hint of internal treachery and deceit. Jared yearned to return and correct this, but even more, he longed to be in contact with Alona—to offer his encouragement, and to prepare in advance for what state of ruin he might expect to find his inheritance. 

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As Jensen glanced at the panel that would admit him into the prince’s residence quarters, he still had a grin on his face. Today had been good. He had worked hard, helped someone else, and hopefully found an ally. What could possibly be wrong with that? Was it possible that he had found a friend here, on this enemy vessel? Could he actually be looking forward to a new day?

His grin faded immediately as he passed through the entrance. Jared was leaning against the bookshelf closest to the door; his arms were crossed in front of him and his expression was firm.

“You spoke to someone today?” The heir inquired immediately. He phrased it like a question, but it sounded like an accusation to the young Pershebian.

The door slid closed, and Jensen was again alone with the prince. He ventured toward his sprouting berries, purposely avoiding Jared’s stare. “Am I to remain silent here?” he queried. “I believed from our previous discussion, that if I accepted your conditions, I was free to move about the ship. Did you not suggest that I would enjoy conversation with someone other than yourself?”

Jared crossed the room and pulled at the simple cloth wrapped around Jensen’s neck. “Take this off!” He demanded. “Everyday, when you leave here, you cover my gift. Why would you scorn such a precious offering?”

“Offering?” Jensen sputtered, ducking his head and trying to avoid strangulation as the prince jerked at the fabric. “What to you is a gift, to me is a yoke. If you cannot comprehend the difference, I cannot explain it to you.”

Jared pulled his young mate to him. “Do you not understand what will happen to you on Fayar if you are found to be impure?” He whispered, as if someone else might be listening. “Have I not explained it clearly enough?”

Jensen did not resist the prince’s grip; he was far too accustomed to it now. And the words were equally familiar. If he had sexual contact with anyone other than the heir prior to their arrival on Fayar—at which time the Ritualists would assess his purity—he would be put to death. And while the Great Darkness continued to beckon to Jensen, he had no desire to traverse the torturous path Jared had described in detail.

“What would lead you to question my purity? Other than at your own hand, of course! If your guardsmen question my intent, they do so according to their own misguided fantasies. I have no desire for anyone!” Jensen carefully aimed that last barb directly at the prince.

Jared took a deep, steadying breath. He pulled away from his mate and assessed his appearance. “I believe you,” he admitted. “I am ashamed to say that I believe you have no desire. I have certainly failed you in this. But whether you understand it or not, there are most likely spies on this ship, people who would earn my father’s favor by discrediting me in any way.” He paused then, shaking his head softly as he pondered the thought. “I would not have you fall prey to such a traitor.”

Jensen just stared. How could a father wish to discredit his own son? And in what way would that benefit the older Fayarian? Jared had already explained that he was an only child, just like Jensen, so how could dishonoring the son serve the father’s interests? The ways of Fayar seemed an unsolvable puzzle to Jensen.

Seconds later, the prince was standing across the room, holding the text he had given to Jensen several days earlier. They had skimmed through the first few pages together, but had yet to make a serious start on the book. “Instead, may I offer to help you gain language skills? For if it is a friend that you wish to find, I would not hinder your effort.”

Jensen was flummoxed. He knew not how to respond. Was it possible that the prince truly meant his words? Jensen’s own words were true—he had no interest in the agrician other than friendly chatter and possible assistance in the agritory. Jensen was not accustomed to a life without responsibility. He needed a purpose. And thus far, the only purpose for his life here had little meaning to the young Pershebian.

Jensen held out his hand, accepting the book. “I was wrong, I do wish to learn your letters,” he admitted.

“They are your letters as well,” Jared counseled. “You have a lot to learn, and if a friend in the agritory can help, I am happy to have his assistance.” He wrapped his arms around his young mate and settled Jensen upon his lap. “Open the book to the third page, we will start there.”

____________________

 

“So tell me again,” Jensen asked as he finished his dinner. It was late and his eyes were heavy. He had yet to clean the sweat and grime from his body, and for some reason this did not seem to bother the prince tonight. They had spent several hours combing through the early chapters of the tome. “There are only twenty-six letters?” He asked again, still finding it hard to believe.

“Yes,” Jared grinned. He leaned across the table and licked the remnants of butter sauce off Jensen’s lower lip before sucking it in.

Completely ignoring the gesture, Jensen continued, “Then how do you make the other sounds?”

“We combine letters,” Jared explained. “You have finished your meal, so come here and sit with me again. Let me tell you more.”

Despite the constant deluge of attention and the brief, ugly overview of Fayarian politics, it was probably the best evening they had spent together. Jensen did not want to spoil the peace, so he stood up and walked around the table to sit next to Jared.

“Umpf!” He exclaimed as Jared summarily pulled him down on his lap. “Hey,” Jensen began to protest.

“Sshh!” Jared whispered in his ear before trailing kisses down his neck. He tasted the salt and the soil on his mate’s skin but did not object. It was a nice blend, actually. “Let me show you.”

Once again, the prince opened the book and turned to a page that showed several letter pairs. “You see, while ‘s’ makes one sound, and ‘h’ makes another, together they make a third. He lowered his lips to Jensen’s ear and rasped an elongated sound. “Ssshhh.”

Jensen felt his skin jump, and pulled away from the sensation. “Th-that makes no sense, why not have a letter to make that sound?”

Jared leaned his head back and laughed. “I did not make it up, I am merely explaining it!” He leaned forward, and sucked an inch of skin just behind the angle of Jensen’s jaw into his mouth. He sucked and worried the skin until he felt the heat rise and his mate’s breaths speed up before pulling away and resuming the same task on another spot along Jensen’s smooth neck.

His plan was solid now. He would ask no more of his young mate tonight than the silent acquiescence he was offering, but by morning his marks would be noticeable, and even the cloth would not cover them.

Sensing Jensen’s nerves beginning to frazzle and his overwhelming exhaustion, Jared pulled away slowly. He wished to plant the seeds of arousal in his mate, nothing more. He placed one hand casually on Jensen’s thigh, and with the other, turned the younger man’s head just enough to plant a gentle kiss upon his soft, full lips.

“I know you are tired, my love,” he whispered in his mate’s ear. “Clean yourself, and sleep peacefully. We can eat together and talk more in the morn. All that I ask of you now is that you do not hide the evidence of my claim encircling your neck. It is truly a token of my love and respect, and all here will recognize that. You will not be faulted for displaying it.” He gently prodded Jensen, urging him up and toward the bath. The prince let his hand brush across Jensen’s groin in a feigned accidental feather-light touch.

Jensen got off the prince’s lap in a daze. New thoughts and sensations were coursing throughout his body. Could it be this easy? Just participating in language lessons seemed to soften the prince’s demands. He thought learning the new letters was well worth the return. He nodded absent-mindedly as he headed off to clean himself. It was hard to believe that he had spent the whole evening covered in dirt and sweat, but until now, he had hardly noticed. 

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	3. Chapter 3

While the afternoon had been a rather tense one, the evening proved to be much more relaxing. The casual time spent with his mate—for once inquisitive and unafraid—had indeed been a welcome relief for the prince. Just the fact that Jensen would sit willingly, or at least without opposition, upon his thighs and listen as Jared gave the lesson, occasionally even interrupting with a question or thought of his own, was an unexpected delight. And when he obeyed Jared’s command to bathe so unabashedly, the heir was overwhelmed with emotion. Perhaps they were making some progress.

Now that he had dismissed his young mate to prepare for the night, Jared found himself anxious to see what would happen when Jensen completed his bedtime preparations. So rather than wait and use the luxurious facilities, Jared opted to wipe himself down with a wet cloth instead. He finished as quickly as possible, hurriedly changed into his sleep clothes and slid beneath the covers on the bed. His normal nightly routine did not require clothing, but if there was the slightest chance that Jensen might choose this night to join him, he did not want his nakedness to hinder his mate’s decision.

Jared purposely scooted to one side of the huge bed, hoping to entice his sleepy, and momentarily content mate to join him. But the prince was no idiot. He left the blankets intact on “Jensen’s side.” He did not pull them back or off the bed. He would offer no particular suggestion or intent. It was Jensen’s move to make, and Jared would not veer from that path.

Even in the near darkness of the room, Jared could see his mate’s silhouette as Jensen exited the bath. The prince slowed his breaths and lowered his eyelids, hoping to simulate sleep. He could not close them completely, he was too anxious to see what Jensen would do.

The younger man looked around the room hesitantly, making no immediate move. After a moment or two, he headed directly to the blankets at the foot of the bed and arranged them to his liking. Each night Jensen spread them out just so, and each morning the Keepers neatly refolded and stacked them again. Jared stifled a sigh. He had hoped they had made more progress this evening, but once again, he had underestimated his mate’s resolve.

Jared flopped on his back and let out a deep sigh. No need to feign sleep now that Jensen had chosen his place for the night. The prince pulled his pants off and wrapped a hand around his cock. It hardened instantly just thinking about his mate curled in the nest of blankets so close to his bed. The prince did not attempt to muffle the sounds of his actions or the groans that slipped from his lips.

Even between moans, he could not hear Jensen at all. It was as if the boy had stilled completely. Whether it was an attempt to better hear what Jared was doing, or an attempt to make the prince forget he was there, it did not matter to the heir. Jared let his hand move freely, his pace speeding up as he drew close.

Thoughts of Jensen’s warmth against his thighs, and the image of the bruises decorating the boy’s neck—marks that would only deepen in color by morning—were enough to bring Jared to orgasm. He let out one long, last groan, and slowed his hand before pulling it away and wiping it across the sheets on "Jensen's side." As he turned over, seconds from sleep, he heard Jensen let out a deep breath. One he might have been holding for some time.

______________________

 

Jensen always woke early, he wondered if he would ever experience a full night’s sleep again. As he exited the bath, the prince was just rising from his bed. Jared’s gaze fell immediately upon his neck.

The young Pershebian hadn’t wrapped the fabric around his neck, although he was not certain why. As he pondered the thought for a moment, he decided it was because his throat felt sore and sensitive this morn, and that the cloth rubbing against his skin would be most uncomfortable. Why it felt so tender, he was not sure. Jensen had not looked in the mirror as he dressed. He never did. He did not care to see what he had become in these weeks since leaving his home.

He let out a frustrated growl as Jared watched him stomp about the room. “Might I have more than one set of clothing to choose from at a time?” He frowned at the prince. “Must I always feel as if you have dressed me?”

“Why would you require more clothing, Jensen?” The prince countered. “The agritory seems to be your only destination, and it is quite warm there.” He stood back to survey his young mate. “You are adequately covered. Why would you need more clothing?”

Jensen snarled again. “I do not need to wear more than one outfit at a time. I simply desire to have a choice.”

“Ahh.” The prince’s eyes widened as if in sudden understanding, but there was a sparkle hidden beneath. He nodded. “Then when I am certain you will not squirrel away outfits in order to defy my orders, you may have as many choices as you like.”

“What is ‘squirrel away'?” Jensen blustered. “Have I not proven myself already? I have followed your rules, I have allowed your guards to follow my every move, like hounds trailing a scent, never once attempting to avoid their presence, and I have even taken language lessons with you. What else would you have me do?”

“When it no longer embarrasses you to be seen with me. When you willingly dine in the eateries at my side. When you curl up beside me in our bed. Then you will have proven yourself.” Jared answered straightforwardly. He had no intention of hiding his desires from his mate.

“You ask more than I can give,” Jensen muttered, his head bowed low. He did not offer more, just scurried about the room preparing for his daily departure.

Jared watched in amazement. His mate was truly a beautiful sight. Whether angry or demure, the youth’s actions continued to further entice the prince. Jared felt the heat stir in his groin as he stared at the marks he had left around Jensen’s neck, and the delicate metal chain that symbolized his claim.

The prince smiled brightly at his mate, but did nothing to hinder the younger man as he headed for the door. “Thank you,” Jared whispered the words with true reverence, again focusing his gaze upon the Arganthium links encircling his mate’s neck.

“I did not do it for you,” Jensen replied immediately, a hand instinctively rising to his neck. While it was not the youth’s desire to bait the prince; likewise, it was not his wish to appease him either.

Jared nodded slightly. “I know you did not, but I thank you nevertheless.”

Jensen hesitated for a moment, concerned about departing too hastily, but finally turned toward the panel that slid open immediately upon his visual command.

“Greetings!” The prince called out.

“What is that word?” Jensen stopped in the doorway and turned back to face the heir. “What is it that you say to me?”

“Hello,” Jared replied. “If you wish to communicate with your new acquaintance, say ‘greetings’.”

“Greetings,” Jensen repeated, feeling the odd word roll off his tongue. He looked directly at Jared. “And then what?”

Jared smiled again, “I am afraid you will require many more lessons before I can teach you more than a handful of pleasantries.”

Jensen frowned momentarily, and then took the opportunity to leave. “Greetings,” he mumbled to himself, practicing his new word.

_____________________

 

Today was a big day for Jensen. It was the day he would commit his surviving berries to soil. If he waited any longer, they would be lost forever. They meant so much to him, but no one here would really understand that. There was so much involved that he could not explain to his new friend, and that he would not explain to the prince. Once they rooted in the soil, it would take only a few simple instructions for Misha to care for the seedlings. Jensen’s plants would grow despite him. He might be here to see them flourish, or he might not.

Two weeks had passed without any new conflict arising. Jensen remained adamant in his choice of sleeping arrangements, and as long as he continued to sit without hesitation on the prince’s lap throughout his language lessons, Jared placed no further pressure on the youth. But the heir offered no new concessions either. Each day, one outfit was left lying on the table closest to the bath, and each evening, nighttime attire sat in the same place when Jensen returned from his day toiling in the dirt.

Each night, Jensen lay in his nest of blankets and listened to the prince’s gasps and groans. At first, he thought it to be some sort of painful experience, but as the nights proceeded, and Jensen’s flesh began to swell with the now familiar sounds, he realized the prince was not in pain after all. One time, Jensen actually reached down and touched himself, gasping softly at the feel. Then he chose what seemed the best option—ignore the sensation, and it would go away.

He had made quite a bit of progress in the agritory, and quite a bit of progress toward gaining a new friend at the same time. Oh, they still barely spoke, but with the few phrases Jared had taught him, and a series of hand gestures they were both becoming familiar with, Jensen and Misha had somehow found an easy friendship.

“Greetings,” Jensen had offered the morning after his first real language lesson with Jared. He wanted to practice his new word before he forgot how to say it. Misha just stared at him with his large, blue eyes. Jensen thought he had mispronounced the word, but the agrician’s gaze was focused directly on Jensen's neck.

At first, Jensen cowered away; he had believed the prince when he said that none would fault him for displaying the chain. But that morning it appeared as if the prince had lied. The youth looked around for anything he could quickly place around his neck. He would plaster it with the thick, sticky soil if he had to.

“Um, greetings,” Misha responded softly. He pointed to Jensen’s neck, accompanying the gesture with first a pained expression and then a questioning one. When Jensen did not reply immediately, the agrician grabbed a shiny hoe, one neither man had dirtied yet that day, and flashed it in front of Jensen’s face. He turned it at just enough of an angle so that Jensen could see the bruises covering his throat. He remembered then. He remembered the prince drawing his skin in and sucking languidly. He remembered how it warmed him and put him in that trance-like state. Suddenly, he pushed the hoe away and placed a hand against his throat to hide the marks.

“Hurt?” Misha asked, accompanying the unfamiliar word with the same painful expression.

“No,” Jensen mumbled, “Just sore.” He knew the Fayarian did not understand his words, but hoped that the shake of his head would at least reassure the agrician that Jensen had come to no serious harm.

Misha pulled at his sleeve until it ripped off at the shoulder and offered it to his new friend. It was the first time Jensen had seen a bare arm on the vessel. With that simple gesture, the two had settled into a new, closer friendship.

Jensen never mentioned the marks to Jared. Somehow, he thought the prince would find pleasure in his dismay. Instead, he wore the sleeve around his neck until the marks faded completely. And he carefully kept his neck out of the reach of Jared’s lips after that.

Once the bruises were gone, he gave the sleeve back to his friend. As silly as it seemed, the fabric did belong to Misha.

After several days of labor, helping his friend soften and enhance the sticky soil, Jensen finally indicated that it was time to plant Misha’s tiny seedlings. It was high time; their fragile leaves were drooping in the water, and desperately needed the nutrition the refurbished soil had to offer. They both smiled on the next morn when the leaves took a turn toward the light.

Slowly, other agricians returned to the agritory while Jensen was there. None paid him any attention, and he painstakingly avoided any new interactions. Misha would point to new arrivals, and whisper names, but Jensen pretended not to hear.

The agritory proved to be overwhelmingly hot for the guards, and now that Jensen had Misha’s companionship, they no longer hovered within the agritory confines. Instead, they found ways of entertaining themselves just beyond the doors. And that gave Jensen new ideas. He already knew a dozen ways to follow his path to the Great Darkness, now all he needed to do was distract Misha. But the young agrician proved stubborn.

After a few more days, Jensen determined that it must now be a part of Misha’s job to keep Jensen company. And that aggravated him even more than the guards’ presence did. He did not fault Misha for it though; how could the Fayarian refuse such a task? It still settled poorly with Jensen, though.

 

Now, it was finally his turn. Today was his day, and Jensen proudly carried his berries to the agritory for planting. The color of each small orb had faded to a pale yellow, but the roots were growing thick and sturdy. If the soil was as good as Jensen thought it was, and the conditions as easy to control as they had been so far, he would have a dozen small, thick bushes in less than a turn of the tide.

Misha looked at them respectfully, and offered his hands up to assist. Jensen simply shrugged, hoping his friend would understand. This was his job—his berries—and as much as he enjoyed Misha’s company, he did not want to share what little he had left of Pershebe with anyone. So Misha just sat back quietly and watched as Jensen carved out three furrows—each identical in depth and length—and dropped four sprouting berries in each trough at regular intervals. He covered them carefully, adjusted the light, and sprinkled just a hint of water across the plot. He would have stayed there all night, just to watch the first hint of a sprout break through the surface, but he knew he could not. Evenings were still reserved for just him and Jared.

_______________________

 

Jared returned to his residence earlier now than he had on the voyage to Pershebe. He looked forward to watching Jensen pass through the door and pose some new, complex question. It was always a challenge. He reclined against the sofa, and waited for the door to open.

“You planted your berries,” Jared stated, rather than questioned, as soon as the door slid closed behind his mate.

“How would you know?” Jensen retorted. “Have you a new spy?” It still upset him to think that Misha, his only friend, likely provided daily reports to his captor.

Jared laughed softly, rising to meet his mate. “They are gone,” he pointed toward the empty bowl. “And they meant so much to you, I assumed you planted them. Have I learned so little about you that I would miss this day?” He wrapped an arm gently around Jensen and turned him to face the dinner table. Several platters were laid out—all well-known Pershebian delicacies. Again, Jared had relied upon notes from history to get this just right.

“Come on,” the prince cajoled, “Let us celebrate your accomplishment.”

Jensen allowed himself to be guided toward the extravagant display. It was so easy to give in, just for one night. How long had it been since he tasted the flavors of Pershebe? Had it been a quarter-turn yet? But still he hesitated.

“What is wrong?” Jared asked solicitously. “Have I missed some favorite of yours?”

Jensen eyed the prince warily, but it had been a long, emotional day and his defenses were down. “No,” he mumbled, “I-I cannot think of any other food that I crave. But I fear that I lack an appetite this night.”

 

“You have eaten without reservation thus far,” Jared replied. He pulled back enough to meet Jensen’s eyes. “Why would you not enjoy some of your favorite foods?”

Jensen lowered his head, as he did every time he wished not to offer a response.

“Tell me,” the heir insisted, cradling the younger man’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Tell me why you would not celebrate the survival of your berries. You have worked hard to keep them alive.”

“It is not that…” Jensen began. He was not certain how to explain it.

“Then what?” Jared continued in his attempt to draw the information from his mate. They were from different worlds, and he knew it would take much time and considerable patience before he began to understand how the Pershebian thought.

Jensen tried to turn away.

“Tell me!” Jared insisted again, holding his mate in place. “What prevents you from celebrating?”

“I would like to see them,” Jensen admitted, again attempting to lower his head. “They are new here, and I wish that the first eyes to view them breach the surface be Pershebian.” He cowered with the admission, not knowing how Jared would take his candor.

Instead of laughing or banishing Jensen to the bath, Jared grabbed his hand and allowed his gaze to land upon the command panel. He called out a few orders to the guards and Keepers, words in Fayarian too quickly spoken for Jensen to understand, and headed directly out the door.

“If we sit here for a week so that your eyes are the first to see your seedlings emerge,” Jared stated once they arrived at the agritory, “That will be fine with me.”

Soon, the elaborate buffet was brought to them, and Jensen smiled as he took his first bite of collfish in, well, a long time. He wondered silently how the Fayarians had managed to catch some in the short time they were on Pershebe. Every few minutes, he glanced toward the soil.

All evening, Jensen shared his time between Jared’s lap and the plot. He was afraid of either upsetting the prince or missing the first moments his berries sprang to life. So when Jared offered him a cup of golden, sparkling liquid, he merely gave it a cursory sniff before drinking it down.

Jensen appreciated the fact that Jared avoided looking at the plot. He kept his back to it the whole time. At least the prince humored his request to be the first to see his plants rise.

It seemed as if only minutes had passed, but Jensen was slightly dizzy and sillier than he would admit. As Jared slipped thin slices of meat between his lips, and Jensen accepted them with a giggle. He followed the driest selections down with a slug from his refilled drink.

Sometime in the late evening, before Jensen collapsed in exhaustion or something else, he glanced back to his plot with blurry eyes. Could it be? Was he imagining it? He stood abruptly, his glass slipping out of his hand and shattering on the floor.

Yes! It was real! He could see a tiny sprout jutting out of the soil. When he got closer, he saw several more. He had done it! And no matter what else happened, his berries would survive!

“Can I see?” Jared whispered deferentially. “Is it okay now?”

Jensen did not say anything. He could not. The best he could do was nod.

“They are beautiful,” Jared admitted. He placed a soft kiss upon Jensen’s forehead. “I am glad you shared this with me. Come now, it is time for bed.”

Jensen nodded in agreement. They _were_ beautiful. They were his. And he had shared them with the prince. Right now, that seemed okay.


	4. Chapter 4

Jensen could not keep track of the passing time any more. He tried to correlate all the events that had happened with the number of _septamas_ that must have past, and the numbers just seemed to jumble in his mind.

Each time he questioned Jared about the passage of time, the prince found some way to change the subject without being overly obvious. By the time Jensen figured out what Jared was doing, they were talking about something else entirely.

He stared at the basket of over-ripened, rotting berries. Surely it had been long enough that he could work toward extracting their contents. He could already see the skin thinning and the pale yellow liquid beginning to ooze out. Without proper extraction, the juice would be wasted. It required precise temperature and pressure control to turn the simple juice into the thick, white nectar.

Still, it would help him to know how long it had been since he plucked the berries. He knew twelve _septamas_ was the optimal amount of time—nearly a quarter-turn. Two _septamas_ too early, and the nectar would be overly harsh, making the taste unbearable. The animals on his father’s farm had refused food or liquid tainted even slightly with the elixir in that state. Two _septamas_ too late, and the nectar would lose it’s potency, leaving its effects questionable. He did not know that for certain, having never experimented on a sentient being, but he had read about it in the ancient texts.

Each day in the agritory, Jensen wanted to ask Misha how long they had been traveling, but he still lacked the words for such an in-depth discussion. While their friendship had kindled and grown, it was born out of a mutual appreciation for plant life, and possibly loneliness as well, but deep conversations were far beyond their current abilities.

Right now, Jensen had other pressing concerns. He was not sure what was going on, but he grew more and more restless every day. It started the morning after his berries broke ground for the very first time, and seemed to worsen ever since. He woke that next morning with a groan, and heard Jared laugh from where he sat in a nearby chair. Jared was never up when Jensen rose, so something must be off.

“There is water and a remedy to relieve your aching head on the table,” Jared said. “I am sure you are in need of it this morn.”

The truth was, Jensen’s head was just fine. He was more relaxed and at ease than he had been since meeting the prince. It was his cock that ached! It jutted out before him, pulsing with his heartbeat, and he did the best he could to hide the evidence from Jared. What was this new condition? And why had it affected him so suddenly?

“Th-thank you,” Jensen sputtered. “I-I had not expected to awaken this way.” It sounded like a terrible lie to Jensen, but it was the truth, even if Jared didn’t know the exact meaning.

“No one ever does the first time,” Jared explained. “We were celebrating, and you drank too much. My apologies for not stopping you sooner, but you were having such a lovely time, I did not want to ruin it.”

So that was what this was? Jensen had wondered at the time. You drank too much of the golden liquid, and it made your cock swell and pulse? It made you want to touch it and thrust into the nest of blankets beneath you? How could such a thing be true?

He had risen quickly—his back turned to the prince—and rushed to the bath. It was not until he closed the door that he realized he was wearing his sleep clothes. “Jared?” His voice wavered as he called out. “D-did you _dress_ me?”

Jared’s laugh was just as loud, even through the door. “No, Jensen,” he replied, “I held you upright while you struggled into your sleep pants. I feared you would break your nose when you landed face first on the floor during your attempt to change if I did not. I would tell you that I averted my gaze, but that would be a lie. And I have no desire to lie to you. Though I assure you, I did not take advantage of your incapacitated state.”

Jensen let out a sigh of relief. And then he wondered why Jared had not. The prince had already taken him, what stopped him from doing it again? He shook his head. It was a question he would never know the answer to, for he would never ask it.

 

The door slid open, and Jensen was distracted from his musings. Jared came to stand directly behind him, as he always did. Jensen did not even flinch any more. In fact, he tipped his head to the side, unconsciously offering his neck in silent surrender. An offer Jared never refused.

The prince kissed and nipped at the nape of Jensen’s neck, careful not to suck too hard. He remembered how much that had affected his young mate, and while he had needed to demonstrate his claim at the time, he would wait until such a demonstration would give his mate pleasure, to do so again.

“Why are you standing here?” Jared questioned.

“I believe my berries are ready for processing,” he muttered. His heartbeat pounded in his groin, and he silently willed it to stop. That was one thing he definitely did not want to admit to the prince. “If I wait much longer, I fear it will be too late.”

“For what?” Jared asked. He lifted his head away from his mate with a soft lick from nape to ear. “Too late for what? What does the elixir do?”

Jensen swallowed hard, lowering his head. How much information could he share? He knew if he did not offer a response, Jared would not allow him to proceed. But if he told the truth, what would the outcome be?

“Um,” he hesitated.

“It is a simple question, Jensen,” Jared’s voice hardened. He turned the younger man in his arms. “Have I held the truth against you once?”

Jensen thought for a moment. It was true. From that first day on the vessel, each time he had made an admission to the prince—no matter how great or how small—he had not been punished. It was only when he withheld information that Jared became harsh.

“I will never punish you for the truth, as long as you reserve it for the time we spend alone. You must remember that questioning me or arguing with me in the presence of others will only lead to punishment in the presence of others,” Jared cautioned. “It is only lies and disobedience that will gain you punishment in private. So, do not disobey me. Tell me the purpose of the elixir.”

Still, Jensen hesitated. This was certainly an discussion he should have anticipated. Why had he not prepared for it already? He kept his head lowered, running through different scenarios in his mind.

“What would you suggest I do?” Jared interrupted his thoughts.

“What?” Jensen mumbled.

“As punishment,” the older man replied dispassionately, “What would be the best reminder for you? Would a spanking help loosen your tongue? Or is all hope of truth lost, and I should call the Keepers in to discard the rotting fruit now?”

“No!” Jensen blurted out. “Please, do not dispose of them. I lost everything to gather them. Please do not take them from me!”

“So, are you saying a spanking will be enough to loosen your tongue?” Jared asked.

“No, I will tell--”

“You only have two options here Jensen,” Jared cut him off mid-sentence. “We are past simple admissions. You can ask for a spanking to remind you to be honest with me, or you can ask me to remove the objects that tempt you to deceive me. Which will it be?”

Jensen felt the prince’s hands wrapped firmly around his arms, and resisted the desire to struggle. Thus far, it had done him no good. Instead, he collapsed, and let himself dissolve into the grip. Utterly lost, he had no words to offer.

“Just obey, Jensen,” Jared whispered in his ear. He moved his arms to enfold the younger man. “Answer now. For if you do not, I will decide for you, and you may not be happy with my choice.”

“S-spanking,” Jensen mumbled, hardly believing the word leaving his mouth. “Please do not take the berries from me. A spanking will be enough.”

“So, you wish me to spank you?” Jared clarified, his voice remaining neutral. “That will be enough of a reminder?”

“Yes, My Lord. Please, spank me!” Jensen still found it hard to believe he was saying the words, but at that moment, he meant them. “That will be enough.”

“Okay,” Jared replied, his voice filled with hesitant acquiescence. “I will believe you this time, but I do not wish to have this conversation again.” He held Jensen firmly and walked backwards toward the bed.

Jensen bristled in his arms, remembering the harsh treatment he had received on his first day on the ship. Still, he allowed the prince to maneuver him. He felt Jared move to sit on the bed, and he felt his own pants being pulled down. He hovered in a daze, struggling to let his body go slack and follow the prince’s plan. Soon he was positioned across Jared’s lap.

“Sshh!” Jared soothed. “Because you asked for this, it will not be so harsh as before. But it must still be a reminder.”

Jensen nodded his head, not even sure if the prince could see him. The first slap rang in his ears before he felt the sting on his ass. And then the blows fell quickly. Soon, Jensen could not distinguish between the sound and the pain. Tears sprang to his eyes. Suddenly, a new sensation bloomed—his cock swelled and jutted forward, brushing across Jared’s thigh with every blow. The spanking stopped abruptly.

“Jensen?” the prince questioned. “Are you _hard_?” He turned the younger man in his lap.

Jensen was sobbing now, trying to cover his embarrassment. “What is _hard_?”

Jared grinned, looking down at the evidence. He remembered what he had read in the journals, and what his grandfather had explained to him years ago. “Your cock is hard! How old were you when we came together the first time?”

“Nineteen,” Jensen sniffed back another sob. “I told you the truth that day. I did not lie.”

“I know how many tides you had turned, but how close to your twentieth were you?” Jared clarified.

“Um,” it was difficult for Jensen to answer. His ass stung and his cock throbbed. There were too many distractions. “Um…eleven _septamas_.”

“Oh, gods!” Jared exclaimed. “I barely found you in time. In less than a season, you would have been spoiled for me. We were truly meant to be together!”

“I…I do not understand,” Jensen admitted.

“Relax,” Jared whispered softly, “You have reached your twentieth turn. And with that comes a new arousal. I suspect you have been experiencing such sensations for a few _septamas_ , yes?”

Jensen hesitated momentarily, remembering the punishment he had experienced only minutes ago. He was still unable to speak clearly, so he merely averted his eyes and nodded his head in reply.

The prince shifted his mate to the bed, and pulled his pants the rest of the way off. Sensing Jensen’s sudden stillness, he offered a reassurance, “I will not touch you if you would rather I not, I promise. But what you are feeling is natural. Most Fayarians experience such sensations at a younger age, but I have been assured that it is normal for you to reach that level near your twentieth turn.” He nodded his head toward Jensen’s still hard cock. “Touch it. Feel it,” he whispered softly, encouragingly. “Wrap your hand around it.”

Jensen obeyed. He turned his head away and moved his hand lower without looking. It was so warm! And just the slightest touch made it twitch, like it was begging for more.

“It is okay,” Jared assured. “Wrap your hand around it. Let me help you.” Suddenly, the prince’s large hand covered Jensen’s own, and he began to move Jensen’s hand up and down the length of his cock.

The sensation was too much to resist. Jensen loosened the tension in his arm, and allowed Jared to manipulate his movements. He moaned as the motion intensified, and Jared’s breath blew across the swollen head. His eyes sprang open, and he stared down at the prince’s lips, just inches from his groin!

“It is okay,” Jared repeated. “Just let go.” He sped up the motion, tightening and loosening his hold on Jensen’s hand at varying intervals as he continued. He grinned when he felt the motion of Jensen’s hips change to adapt to the motion of his hand. “Yes, like that.”

Soon Jensen was panting and moaning. His hips were detached from his mind, and they bucked up into his and Jared’s combined hands. His head thrashed from side to side. “What?…Aahhhh!!!”

Any coherent thought left him as he felt Jared’s slick tongue take a swipe across the head of his cock. His hips thrust forward and froze as he screamed and fluid spurted from his cock. Stream after stream gushed out and covered their hands. Jared slowed the movement, but did not stop until the final emission sputtered out, and Jensen was so sensitive that his hips pulled away instinctively.

“Gods! You are so beautiful!” Jared exclaimed after Jensen finally caught up with his breaths. “Thank you for sharing another first with me.”

Jensen was far too tired and too content to reply, but a grin played at his lips as he started to drift off.

“When you awaken, you will tell me the purpose of your berries,” Jared demanded.

Jensen smiled drowsily and nodded. He fell into sleep, and experienced the most pleasant dreams.

_______________________

“So,” Jared paced the room, drumming two finger against his cheek. “This elixir you wish to create is a veritable _truth serum_? How do you know this?”

Jensen tried to gauge the prince’s mood, but found it difficult. He did not appear angry, but the youth could not be sure. “I do not know it. I have only read about it,” he replied. “I have tested its safety on animals, but I have yet to test it on any being capable of verifying the accuracy of the claims. That was my next step.”

“You require a test subject,” Jared continued. It was not so much a question as a conclusion. “And the elixir will not harm the subject?”

Jensen bristled. “I would not test it on anyone without their consent, if that is what you imply.”

Jared looked at him curiously. “Why would I imply such a thing? I merely asked you a question. Would the elixir cause physical harm to the subject?”

“No, but…” Jensen began.

“And how long would the effects of such a concoction last?” Jared continued, cutting of Jensen's rebuttal.

“They seem to be transitory, so I have read,” Jensen replied. “They differ with the dose, but small doses apparently last for no more than a few minutes.”

Jared stopped in his tracks, and that impish grin spread across his face. “Perfect!” He exclaimed. “I have your perfect subject.”

Jensen ran through the few familiar faces he knew. He only hoped that Jared was not thinking of Misha. His friend would agree to whatever the prince requested, as would all members of the crew, Jensen was sure, but an unwilling subject was not something Jensen wanted.

“Who?” He mumbled, still uncertain that he wanted to hear the answer.

“First, we must get you to the labs. There is a fine lab close to the agritory you favor. I will have your friend show you the way.” The gears were already turning quickly in the prince’s head. “The Leader there is an excellent scientist. Although not Fayarian, he has worked within our realm his entire life. He can show you what you need, and perhaps Misha can assist you. Yes, I think that is a wonderful idea!”

“Who?” Jensen repeated.

“Fredric,” Jared replied, “He is an excellent asset to our scientific community. I am sure he can help you find what you need.”

“No,” Jensen shook his head, still reeling over the thought that a somewhat willing Fayarian would be his test subject. “Who will sample the elixir?”

Jared turned abruptly. His eyebrows shot up. “You do not know me so well, do you? I would not ask anyone aboard this vessel to do something that I would refuse. Your test subject would be me, of course.” He looked at his mate seriously, “but in this I must trust you. You may not divulge the purpose of the elixir to anyone, and you may only test it when we are alone.”

Jensen gasped. “You would allow that? Why?”

“Because I intend to spend my life with you, and I hope that our union will continue in all our journeys to come. And I intend to win your trust and your confidence. Why not start now?” Jared stared directly into his mate’s eyes, “But in this, I must give you my trust as well, and hope that you will not abuse it.”

“I will not,” Jensen admitted.

“Then it is set!” Jared was back to his excited pacing. “Tomorrow, the guardsmen will escort you, your berries, and your friend to the lab, and I will make sure that Leader Fredric knows that you require his assistance in your endeavors. But tell neither him nor Misha any more. Do I have your word?”

“Yes,” Jensen muttered. He was still lost in the developments of the day. He had reached his twentieth turn without realizing it, he had achieved a new…experience, and he was granted the ability to test his elixir on the only person on the entire vessel who could willingly give consent. What more could he ask? Maintaining secrecy was a minor concession at this point. “You have my word. No one will know what I am doing.” It was an easy promise to keep. Only the prince understood his words well enough to understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This 'verse means a lot to me, takes up a huge amount of my thinking time. I would really love to hear what you think. ♥


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, true to his word, Jared ensured that Jensen not only received a first-class tour of the lab that was closest to the agritory where he tended to his seedlings and other plants, but also that Leader Fredric himself conducted it. Close, by Jared’s standards, meant that Jensen had to walk down two full-length corridors to get there.

The hope that he would be able to extract the priceless elixir from his berries made the nearly endless walk, awash in stares and murmurs as he and his entourage passed, worth it. Well, that was not quite true, the elixir was not actually priceless. There was no doubt about it—Jensen had paid for it with his freedom. Right now, though, he had to hope that his sacrifice at least had some value.

He tried to pretend the daily journey—past workers, agricians and whatnots—got better as time passed, but it was not the truth. The mumbles and glares only became more apparent, and if Misha had not been at his side, it would have been difficult to continue the daily trek.

That first day, Jensen had left his berries behind in the residence quarters. It was more important to get a feel for the place, and see what this _Leader Fredric_ had to offer. Jensen’s little lab beneath his father’s barn was kind of an ongoing joke to his parents and Christian. They never really had an appreciation for the precision Jensen used in its design, and he never tried to correct them.

Beneath the bales of grain and the barrels of ripening fruit brought in during the harvest, Jensen kept a close eye on the conditions in his tiny lair. He packed dirt along the edges of the entrance to minimize changes in humidity, and he made sure that he was deep enough below Pershebe’s surface to ensure a constant temperature. It might seem odd for a youth of his age, but Jensen had spent nearly five years of his life exploring and examining the underworld caverns of Pershebe—for all the good it had done him—and he came to understand that below the planet’s surface, temperature, pressure, and humidity were near constants. That left only his test substances as variables in his experiments. His lab might be crude, and his techniques rudimentary, but they were effective.

Jensen raised his head when Misha gave him a nudge. They had arrived at their destination, and Misha knocked on the door before Jensen had a chance to turn and run. He probably wouldn’t have gotten far, the four familiar guardsmen had followed along behind them, but without Misha’s presence, he most likely would have made a break for it anyway.

Instead, Jensen stood still as the door slid open. And despite the fact that his gaze was cast slightly downward, he found himself staring directly into steely blue eyes. He would have liked to think of them as _soft_ blue, like Christian’s, but none of the kindness seemed to shine through them. Underneath Christian’s fierce exterior, he had a gentle heart that anyone could see if they took the time to look. It sent a chill down Jensen’s spine to see such a similar set of eyes lacking even a modicum of warmth.

Perhaps it was the culture here—one that did not allow for such displays of kindness and compassion—that resulted in the void Jensen saw behind those eyes. He was still too new here to know any different.

And dammit! That thought alone was enough to set Jensen off. When had he allowed himself the comfort of accepting the role of “newcomer” as opposed to “captive?”

Despite that frustration, he tried to allow his naturally inquisitive mind to plod forward. The only person he saw regularly, excluding Jared and the guardsmen, was Misha. Misha seemed to be an entirely different creature than any other Fayarian he had seen. Misha had kind eyes, and his gestures and words—whether Jensen understood them or not—always seemed laced with concern.

The guardsmen were another story. In the quarter-turn that Jensen had spent here, he observed quite a bit about each of them. He did not know their names, did not really care, but he had his own classification system for the quartet. _Elder_ was the first and easiest title Jensen had assigned. It was the name he had given the guardsman with dark skin and silvery streaks in his close-cropped hair, and an air of superiority in his walk. He was the first to follow Jensen every morn, and the one to indicate it was time for the Pershebian to return to the prince’s quarters each eve. He was also the first to desert the agritory as time and temperature increased. _Elder_ was most definitely in charge of the rest.

The second in charge, as far as Jensen could tell, he assigned the name _Fighter_. _Fighter_ was actually the last one to receive an epithet. It hurt a little to use the term he so frequently associated with his best friend, but Jensen had been unable to conjure up another word when he watched the man in motion. And after a few weeks of daily contact, he found himself needing a word to associate with the man. _Fighter_ was smooth and sleek in his movements. He never uttered a word, but his eyes took in everything around him, seemingly gauging every possible threat. His skin was similar to _Elder's_ , but his shiny bald head stood in contrast to those of his fellow guardsmen. And no one spoke to him without what appeared to be a good reason. Jensen thought the others either feared or admired him. That was the reason _Fighter_ was the only name that came to mind.

The third was much easier. _Joker_ was the first word Jensen thought of while observing the lithe guardsman. Whenever they were idle, the small, spry man would jump up and strut around, gathering the attention of his fellow guards, and hollering out phrases that made the others double over in laughter. He stopped the second _Elder_ spoke a word, or _Fighter_ gave him that _look_. Otherwise, his countenance was one of fun and frivolity—amusement for all that were interested.

The fourth—while not appearing to be the youngest—was the most unfortunate of the lot. He was certainly the lowest in rank, even if _Joker_ appeared to be several tides younger. Jensen recalled that the fourth was the guard Jared had ordered left behind to clean the visitation quarters and transport the Pelunga berries on that first, horrible day. Each time there was some unsavory task to perform, like cleaning, transporting, or fetching a meal, it was the fourth guardsman assigned to it. So naming him was the easiest of all. He was _Unfortunate_.

Jensen had never actually met any of the _Unfortunates_ on Pershebe, but he had seen several. They kept their heads low, followed orders, and never offered an argument—no matter what job they were assigned. So yes, the term was a perfect fit for the fourth guardsman.

Once Jensen had all the names in place, it was much easier to keep track of his surveillance team. Sometimes it seemed like a game, trying to figure out what move each would make. By now, after following their moves for nearly a quarter-turn, Jensen had a good feel for them all.

“Leader Fredric, this is Jensen, the Chosen,” Misha began, again giving the young Pershebian a gentle shove. “The prince tells me you are expecting us.”

Jensen understood his name, “the prince,” and “Leader Fredric,” but none of the other words made much sense.

Fredric’s laconic expression eased into a smarmy grin as he focused on the pair. “But of course, come in,” he offered, throwing the door wide and gesturing widely toward the inner sanctum of the lab. Even without understanding the words, Jensen understood the gestures, and they did not help to ease his mind. Not even a little.

But those concerns faded away immediately as Jensen passed through the door in a dream state. Even though the lab was small, every surface held a useful device. He brushed his fingers over a simple manometer, but eased away before making contact with either the dead weight tester or the strain gauge transducers. He had seen several in the texts, but feared that they might be too delicate to withstand his touch.

The temperature gauges were equally fascinating. The units of measurement were different, but he hoped to figure out the new system quickly. The small glass enclosures sitting on the center island drew his attention instantly. Once he discovered them, his eyes refused to stray. There were two, _beraba_ den-sized glass enclosures. Each had two entry portals, which Jensen assumed were for manual manipulation of whatever test subject/compound was contained within.

He was fascinated, awestruck. He was absolutely out of his element. Certainly the best thing he could do would be to turn and run, but when he looked behind, all he saw was the closed door, and Misha’s grin. The lab was too small to allow more than three men admittance at the same time; if they wanted to get any work done, that is. That made it all the more enticing for Jensen. At least it offered a small amount of freedom.

Fredric was talking enthusiastically and Misha was nodding, but all Jensen could think about was placing his berries in one of the thick glass cases, adjusting the knobs above the device, and waiting for Fayarian science to do the work that would have taken him months to accomplish on Pershebe. He might not be happy in his circumstance, but for the time being, he would take advantage of what it offered.

Again, Fredric was pointing out something to Misha with a long, in-depth explanation. And again, Jensen did his best to ignore the missing sparkle in those familiar eyes.

______________________

“Gods!” Jared exclaimed, slamming his open hand flat against the Comm terminal. He did not shatter it…this time. The prince pulled away from the workstation when he saw the concern on the workers’ faces. There was no reason to alarm the staff. “When will we be able to contact Fayar?” He directed his question toward the general in a much softer tone.

“Come on!” General Beaver snapped, grabbing Jared by the sleeve. He dragged the prince away from the Command Deck and out into the corridor beyond. No one else on the vessel, on Fayar, or on any of its settlements, would have dared to touch the heir so familiarly and so forcefully. “We must talk!”

“What has you so high-spirited today?” The general inquired once they had found some privacy. “Are you _lost_ again?” While he did not so much hope to have another intimate discussion with the prince, he would if that became necessary. “I understand that your mate has made incredible progress. You must keep in mind, that no matter how slow that progress seems to you, no Pershebian mate has ever accepted his or her position during the voyage to Fayar. He is adapting well, and you have offered him a purpose here. At this point, I do not believe you can ask for more.”

Jared shook his head, letting it hang when he finished. “That is not it. But do not misinterpret my words,” he continued, finally raising his gaze. “I do worry about him and how he is adapting, but now I must concern myself with other matters as well. And the lack of communication with Alona leaves me unsettled. I fear for her. I fear for us, and I fear for Fayar.”

“Your concerns are well placed, My Lord,” General Beaver agreed. “I am glad to see you vested in the best interests of your people. That means you are truly destined to be a great leader. I know how you worry about your mate, but his well-being cannot supersede that of all your people. Your decisions must be what is best for us all.”

“And that leaves us where we are,” Jared surmised. “He is off, dividing his time between the agritory and the lab, and we must now concern ourselves with communication.” He walked back onto the Command Deck, much more subdued than before. “How long will it be before we can establish a reliable communication link with Fayar?”

The question was frank and open, awaiting the response of anyone on the Deck who might have an answer.

“Um,” one of the junior officers began, “we cannot expect dependable communication until we pass through the Radon Bands. We are still nine months away.” He gulped in a deep breath as every other face on the Deck turned to him. “B-before that, any communication links are questionable at best, and compromised at worst.”

“Thank you,” Jared sighed. It was not good news, but it was the honesty he expected. “Is there anything we can do to hasten the link?”

“No, My Lord,” Lieutenant Cohen replied. “As far as we can tell, there is no way to bypass the effects of the Radon Bands. We receive only white noise, with mere flickers of contact, until we pass through them.”

Jared nodded in agreement. He was not any happier, possibly even angrier, but the young lieutenant was not at fault. “Thank you,” he murmured as he left the Command Deck.

________________________

 

After a few days of experimenting with the temperature and pressure controls in the lab, learning what effects the turn of each gauge had on a variety of test substances, Jensen brought his berries to the lab. He cradled them in his arms, and hunched his shoulders down to protect them along the journey. He was not completely comfortable with Leader Fredric, and he figured he would never be. But if he did not start working on the elixir soon, his opportunity would be lost until his own seedlings matured. And Jensen was uncertain that he would still be here to see that day.

Fredric was always kind, and he often began talking to Jensen, only stopping when he realized the Pershebian was not following, and then continued with hand gestures. Jensen quickly grew used to them, and understood them nearly as well as he understood Misha’s. But there was always something that did not sit right with the young Pershebian. Never something obvious that he could mention to Jared. And even if he wanted to, he did not have the ability to explain it to Misha, so he kept his thoughts to himself. It just seemed as if the leader had something important to say to him, but stopped just short of it.

One of the glass enclosures was made available the day Jensen toted his berries to the lab. They had seemed a much heavier burden than he recalled. He had lifted the upper glass panel, and poured them in, and ever since, he manipulated them solely with the thick neoprene gloves that provided a conduit between reality and hope.

Fredric was patient and kind. He spent long hours showing how to use various implements. And he smiled each time Jensen figured out what he meant. By the seventh day, the substance within the enclosure no longer resembled a batch of Pelunga berries at all. What had remained of the thin skin, Jensen meticulously peeled away. And the pressure and temperature adjustments were doing their job to turn the innocent, translucent juice into the prized white nectar. Jensen stood there daily, smiling as the changes occurred. That was until Misha frowned at him, and pulled him by the shirt collar down the corridor.

Jensen knew better than to argue with the agrician. They worked on their communication every day, but if there was something one of them did not understand, they each felt comfortable explaining it—physically. That is how Jensen ended up back in the agritory, staring at his fading seedlings.

Only days earlier, they lifted their leaves toward the light and nearly smiled in relief. But now? Now they were fading. They needed more than Jensen had offered for days, and Misha’s frown made it obvious that he held the young Pershebian accountable.

Jensen nodded his agreement, accepting both the responsibility and the scorn of his only friend. He made several gestures, and pieced together as much of his new language as he could to explain what must be done.

Misha nodded his understanding and appeared relieved as Jensen assured him that the plants were not lost, simply neglected. He also expressed his understanding when Jensen begged his friend to stay behind and tend to the tiny plants. He had to finish his work in the lab, and with the swift progression of the elixir, missing a single day could prove disastrous to the concoction.

Jensen might not admit it out loud, but he did feel the need to establish his worth to the prince. Jensen was not a toy; he was a scientist—a young, inexperienced one, but a scientist nonetheless.

So Misha stayed behind, adhering to Jensen’s directions as if they were law, and Jensen headed back to the prince’s quarters with a heavy sigh. His free time had come to an end for the day.

Before Jensen got far, Misha spoke softly in a tone that suggested he was trying to offer comfort. The Pershebian did not understand most of his words, but he committed them to memory, determined to ask Jared what they meant during their language lesson later that night.

He left without another word, and once again, the four guardsmen followed behind.

____________________________

 

Twenty minutes, that was all the time Jensen had before Jared came storming into their quarters. Oh Gods! Since when had he begun to think of these rooms as “theirs?”

“Bad day?” He smirked. It gave him a perverse satisfaction to bait Jared when he was obviously in a bad mood, and at the same time, allowed him to recover from his previous thought. “Not enough people to order around? Or perhaps no one bent to your will?”

Jared growled. “Don’t,” he warned. “Today is not the day to taunt me.” He walked up behind Jensen as he did every night, wrapping long arms around him. The prince nuzzled at his neck, almost as if seeking reassurance.

Jensen was not inclined to offer any. “Oh, so you will let me know when it is a good day to taunt you?” He took a step away, and broke the physical connection. Turning toward the prince, he continued, “I would not want to offend you with my jibes, that would be…inconsiderate.”

Jared moved quickly and snatched a lock of Jensen’s hair, although he resisted the desire to tug on it. “Really, Jen, not today,” the prince growled. He dropped his grip and crossed the room, settling in a plush chair. He rubbed his eyes. “I fear for my people.”

Jensen started to speak, and then realized he had nothing to add. Whatever was bothering the prince did not concern him, it was just that he held no antagonistic feelings toward the Fayarian people in general. The royals, certainly, but the people themselves? Did they actually have anything to do with Jensen’s predicament? If his little interaction with Fayarians, well Misha, to be exact, was any example of the people on Fayar, Jensen did not hold them accountable for his losses.

Before he could think on it more, the Keepers entered the room, and dinner was served.

___________________________

 

Hours had passed since the meal, Jared had already bathed and changed, and was deeply involved in their nightly language lesson. He sat Jensen upon his lap as he did every evening.

“What is ‘accept your place?’” Jensen queried. He was remembering his conversation with Misha hours earlier. Misha’s concerned look was enough to prompt Jensen to ask about it.

“’Accept your place?’” Jared repeated thoughtfully. “In what way was it used?”

At least the prince was taking him seriously. Honestly, during their lessons, Jared always seemed to take his questions seriously.

“Um,” Jensen continued, feeling the prince’s hand rub along his thigh. It was distracting, so he pulled away. “Misha said ‘accept your place,’ a few other words that I don’t remember so well, and ‘it is best.’ What was he suggesting?”

Jensen wiggled uncomfortably, feeling the prince’s hardness against his backside. Again, Jared’s hand wandered between his legs. And this time, when the prince made contact with his swelling cock, Jensen batted his hand away. He lowered his head, and whispered just loud enough for Jared to hear. “Do what you will, but do not ask me to participate.”

“Gods!” Jared exclaimed, pushing the younger man off his lap, and waiting for Jensen to collapse into the chair beside him. The prince brushed his hair out of his face and leaned his elbows heavily on the table. He did not speak again until his breathing slowed. “Okay, tell me what the agrician said to you. As closely as you can recall.”

Jensen repeated his words, adding the look in his friend’s eyes and the concern in his tone.

Jared smiled. “You have found a true friend. He cares for your well-being.”

“What mean you by that?” Jensen replied curtly.

“I mean that Misha worries more for your future than you do,” Jared elaborated. “He is encouraging you to find your way here, to accept your position as the chosen mate of the Heir of Fayar. He is trying to tell you to trust yourself to me.”

“That makes no sense,” Jensen stammered. “Why would I? H-he knows what you have done. What you have taken…”

“He knows that I had no more choice than you did.” Jared held his hand up when Jensen tried to interrupt. “Just listen for a moment. My claim had to be made. You were all I could think of when I first sensed your presence. I was drawn to you from that moment. It would have been better for you had I given you time to accept your place, and perhaps even accept me, but I could not wait.”

Jared sat back, giving Jensen a few moments to consider his comments before continuing, “This agrician, he is a true friend to you?”

Jensen looked up, startled. “Yes, I believe so. He seems…kind.”

“Then perhaps the guardsmen might invite him to take the midday meal with us tomorrow,” Jared offered.

“No!” Jensen gasped, jumping from his chair. “Please, do not ask that of him! My shame is deep enough, I do not wish to bring more attention to it.” His head dropped with that last phrase.

“Ugghh!” Jared exclaimed in exasperation. He stood up as well, unsure of whether to be angry or understanding. He had worked so hard to be patient, how could he give up on that path now?

Jensen dropped to his knees without forethought. “Please, My Lord, allow the Great Darkness to take me. I beg you!” For the first time, he lowered his head to the prince’s boots in supplication.

“You wish to die?!” Jared snarled, as much in anger as in frustration and upset. He dropped to one knee, lifting Jensen’s chin so that he could meet the younger man’s eyes. The heir did not offer any consolation; he was far beyond that right now. “Is that truly your desire?” He hissed. “Or do you simply seek the easiest apparent avenue to escape me?”

Jensen struggled to pull his face out of the prince’s grip. He had no desire to meet Jared’s gaze, but he had no real answer to the question, either.

Jared sighed in frustration at Jensen’s silence, and let his hand drop. “You have much to learn from your friend,” he snarled as he pulled Jensen harshly to his feet. “Bathe! I do not wish to speak more of this tonight.”

Jensen slipped away, never happier to find himself behind the closed door. Gratefully, he succumbed to the warm water. When he returned to the bedroom, Jared was already asleep beneath the covers, and Jensen found himself curling into his nest of blankets once again. “Accept your place,” Misha had said. He understood Jared’s words about it, but what exactly would that acceptance entail?

_______________________

 

Jensen woke early the next morn, but Jared was already gone. If the cold food on the table was any indication, the prince had departed some time ago.

Slowly, Jensen prepared for the day. He exited the quarters with a brief glance at the visual scan panel, and headed to the agritory first.

Jensen took a few minutes to survey Misha’s work, and offered a smile in response. Misha was certainly taking care of his plants. Jensen trusted him.

Next, he headed toward the lab. There were several steps to work on today. The pressure within the chamber needed to be increased gradually over the next few days. He had already reached the optimal temperature—that of the underworld of Pershebe—and now it was time to rely on additional pressure. Jensen smiled as the guardsmen followed his trek to the lab. If all went well, his elixir would be ready for testing in a matter of days.

Leader Fredric greeted him as he did every day, but there was a new sparkle in his eyes. Jensen was glad for it. Perhaps the older man was seeing the progression of the experiment.

Jensen went right to work, only momentarily noticing that he, Leader Fredric, and _Unfortunate_ were alone in the lab. It made sense, Misha was busy in the agritory, and no one—certainly not the prince—trusted Jensen alone.

He was still smiling at the changes his potion had undertaken overnight when he felt heavy fingers against his neck. He bristled immediately, unsure what move to make.

“At last, we are alone,” Fredric growled in his ear.

Jensen tried to throw him off, directing his attention toward _Unfortunate_ , who simply grinned wickedly in response and stepped farther away. And then Jensen realized…

“Yes,” Fredric continued, as if reading Jensen’s thoughts, “I speak your barbaric language. Who do you think teaches those spoiled royals? Now, let us have some quality time.” He grabbed a handful of Jensen’s hair, jerking his head back.

For a moment, Jensen considered struggling, considered blinking twice at the scan panel as Jared had explained, but really, this was what he wanted. He offered his neck in surrender, silently willing his attacker to send him along his Path.

__________________________

 

“Aaahhh!” Jared screamed, clutching his burning wrist. A moment ago, he was debating battle strategies with the general, now he was sinking to his knees in pain. The arganthium bracelet encircling his left wrist heated to burning, and Jared broke through the painful sensation long enough to see it glowing bright red. That could only mean one thing. He darted out of the room and let his senses guide him. Hopefully, they would take him to where he needed to be. He never ran so fast in his life.

_________________________

 

Misha tended the tiny plants, barely more than seedlings. He smiled softly, noticing how quickly they responded to a little extra care. Only one added hour of light and a few extra sprinkles of water turned the leaflets upward once again.

He remembered Jensen’s cautionary statement: A little more light, a little more water, but not too much. That could rot the fledgling roots. He took his new responsibility seriously.

A second later, he was on the ground. His head pulled backward by an imaginary force, and he thought of death pleasantly for the first time in his young life. Who thought like that?

His eyes flew open.

Jensen.

The Chosen.

Who else could he be sensing? For there was no one here holding the young agrician to the ground. He scrambled to his feet, and rushed for the door, running as fast as he could toward the lab...and his friend. 

 

__________________

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take a moment to let me know what you think. Any info you give me only makes the story better! ♥


	6. Chapter 6

Before Jensen could object, Leader Fredric threw him to the floor, placed a knee between his shoulder blades, and jerked his head back by a handful of hair. The young Pershebian tried to speak, to let Fredric know that he was not resisting, but with his throat extended so viciously, exposed so vulnerably, it was all Jensen could manage not to choke on his own spittle. He found himself allowing it to trickle out of his mouth rather than making the painful effort to swallow.

The younger man chose instead to relax completely. Yielding to his attacker seemed the easiest way to convey the message. Jensen remembered everything his parents and the Elders had taught him: In order to continue along his Path, he must consider all the steps he had taken thus far.

 _Relax_ , He coaxed himself, _It won’t be much longer_.

Jensen was born in the same farmhouse where he last saw his mother. He did not remember it, of course, but he remembered all the stories about it. About how he was never supposed to have been born at all, about how his parents had long before given up on the idea of having children of their own, and about how one day, without warning, his mother doubled over in pain, only to awaken with a child cradled in her arms and blood oozing from beneath her skirts.

“A miracle,” some had claimed. But his father always had other words to describe it, even if he always said them with a loving smile, “Another farmhand.” Jensen saw past those words, even now.

Jensen felt himself pulled across the floor by that lock of hair. _Not yet_ , he swore silently, willing himself to push further along the path he had traveled so far. He struggled to keep his breaths even.

Christian was from distant villages, and Jensen never met his dearest friend until he started Academy. Chris was a year his senior, and took a liking to the younger boy immediately. Things were pretty easy for Jensen, with Christian always there, hovering over his shoulder. Oh, sure, Jensen had been in a handful of fights, but only with youths of his own age. It was years before he realized that Christian had sheltered him from the wrath of the older children.

“Guard the door, you oaf!” Leader Fredric hissed.

Not recognizing the words, Jensen tried to glance over his shoulder to see what was happening, but his head was held firmly in place.

Christian’s soft, mischievous smile was replaced by the prince’s huge, dimpled grin. The one he only displayed when he was ridiculously happy, like the evening he had fed Jensen food, and Jensen accepted each treat. Jensen forced himself to move on—there were some things he would rather not revisit along his Path.

Finally, the kind, sympathetic eyes of his new friend flashed in his mind. They said “hello,” “goodbye,” and “I understand” all at the same time. Now, Jensen was ready to move on.

He could do this, Jensen reminded himself. He _wanted_ to do this. All his plans were in place to create his own Path to the Great Darkness, so why not let someone else help him along the way?

Jensen crawled forward, taking the other man with him. All he hoped to do was get further away from his elixir. The process might not be complete, and he might not ever know if his efforts were worthwhile, but Jensen did not want the last sound he heard to be that of the crash of the glass enclosure shattering against the floor.

“Please,” he whispered, “Send me on my Path, I beg you.” With those words, Jensen closed his eyes. He might be prepared to set out upon the path, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see it coming.

“You heathen!” Fredric seethed. “Do you think I am here to _help_ you?” He stopped Jensen’s progress just before Jensen reached the farthest cabinets and turned the corner around the center island. Using Jensen’s lack of resistance to his advantage, the leader flipped him over easily and ripped through the front of his shirt in one smooth motion. His fingers came to rest upon the chain encircling Jensen’s neck.

“Watch for the prince,” Fredric called to the guard. “He will be here soon.”

 _The prince_. That was a phrase Jensen understood, and with Leader Fredric’s hand cradling the metal links surrounding Jensen’s neck, he thought he could figure out the rest.

“What do I do when he gets here?” _Unfortunate_ asked.

“Gods! Sometimes I believe the system is just!” Fredric swore in Pershebian, turning to grin at his captive.

Jensen listened intently, still amazed that he understood Fredric’s words, even if _Unfortunate’s_ were completely lost to him. “Please,” he repeated, “Send me on my way, I will offer no resistance.”

“Oh, you will be on your way soon enough. However, once I have finished with you, that path will be a long and grueling one,” Fredric mused. “But today, we will have some fun, you and I—well at least _I_ will. And two years from now, when you arrive in Fayar, the Ritualists will torture you for our little tryst. One day of torture for every annum—forgive me, _heathen_ —for every _tide_ you have _turned_. They won’t care whether you came to me voluntarily or were taken against your will. The result will be the same: an impure mate for their precious heir.”

Jensen bristled, all too certain he understood the leader’s intent. “Please,” he tried again, “Just send…”

“Kill you,” Fredric interrupted. “That’s how we say it. You wish me to kill you, yet I have far more enjoyable plans. But really, ruining you is only a small step.”

“H-he will kill you!” Jensen gasped. Reaching up, he grabbed at the hand that held his chain, and kicked out against the older man hovering above him.

“A small sacrifice for the ‘Cause’,” Fredric laughed, bearing his weight down upon his victim.

In this position, Jensen could not summon enough force for his kicks to make any significant impact, so he used both hands to swing wildly against the older man’s back and flanks.

“Why do you fight me now, when only moments ago you offered yourself to me willingly?” Fredric taunted.

“I-I never offered…I only wished a path…ugghh!” Jensen’s voice broke off abruptly as Fredric struck him hard in that juncture between chest and abdomen. That spot that steals breath and strength.

Fredric used that moment to turn Jensen on his belly again. And before the youth could resume his fight, the leader took the opportunity to yank Jensen’s pants down and off.

As the cool laboratory air hit his bare bottom, Jensen’s strength returned, and he fought. He fought as he had never fought before, as if his life depended on it—as if the Great Darkness no longer called to him.

“Gods! If it is pain you want, I can give you that, but I have a mission to complete first,” Fredric huffed, again leaning heavily upon his prey. He concentrated on grabbing one of Jensen’s hands, ignoring the attempts the Pershebian made to punch at the leader’s sides. In this position, they made little impact. He clicked a metal link in place, and then quickly went to work securing the other wrist. “Perfect!” He exclaimed. “Now, all you must do is answer a question for me, and I will make this as painless for you as I can. Perhaps, I might even make it pleasurable.”

Jensen could feel the older man drive a knee between his thighs and begin to spread them apart. He squirmed on the ground, doing his best to resist the force.

“Tell me, barbarian,” Fredric whispered in his ear. “Tell me what you wish to accomplish with that elixir of yours, and I will make this as easy for you as I can.”

Jensen struggled harder; he let out a hoarse scream, his throat thoroughly abused just from being extended so forcefully. “Let me go!” He demanded in a voice much gruffer than he expected.

“Tell me, savage, or not only will I enjoy your body,” Fredric paused to take in a few panted breaths and gesture toward _Unfortunate_ standing by the door, “But so will he.”

“No!” Jensen rasped again. He looked around for a scan panel, but the nearest one was directly behind _Unfortunate_. He used all his strength to push up to his knees suddenly. With his hands restrained behind him, it was all he could do. Jensen slammed all his weight back against the leader, pushing the older man off him. For the moment, he was free, and he scrambled away. Jensen saw Unfortunate moving around the laboratory island to cut off his escape.

“Get back to the door!” Leader Fredric roared.

__________________________

 

Just as Jared rounded the corner, skidding as he tried to maintain traction, he saw Misha, the young agrician, running toward him from the other direction. They had a common goal—the laboratory door directly between them.

It was a race.

And Jared won.

But Misha came up quickly, and raised a hand to cover the prince’s eyes before he could use the scan panel to access the room with no real plan in place. Emotion alone guided him.

Misha shook his head adamantly, and stepped between the prince and the door. Taking in a deep breath, the agrician focused on the panel and his feelings.

The door slid open instantly.

It took only a moment to see what was going on in the room. Jared had fought too many battles not to see one laid out before him. This attack was planned, it was premeditated and evil, but Jared had seen much evil in his twenty-five annums. He sprang into action.

The prince’s naked mate was shuffling across the hard floor on his knees, his arms trapped behind his back. Leader Fredric was scrambling after him. The single guard in the room turned toward the prince and raised his weapon. That familiar flash of light darted out before Jared could even counter it, he was so lost in the plight of his mate.

“No!” Misha demanded. It was not a request, or even a plea, the young agrician said it with authority as he raised his hand and the light that had been directed toward Jared obeyed his command.

The flash didn’t stop at the agrician’s hand; it glowed, flickered, and ran up his arm and across his body. Misha began shuddering and seizing. He dropped to his knees, gasping for breath—all without lowering his hand. And suddenly, the light bounced back toward the guard. As the glow departed, Misha collapsed in a heap.

The pulse of light slammed into the guard, and he echoed Misha’s behavior, convulsing for a moment before dropping in place.

Fredric was moving, and that action drew Jared’s attention. The leader had an Eliminator in his hand, Jared couldn’t mistake it for anything else, and it was pointed directly at Jensen.

Level-headed for the first time since his bracelet glowed bright red, Jared pulled his Disc from the sheath that nestled snuggly against his side. It fit as smoothly in his hand as it had in any other battle, and Jared took aim. The sudden flare engulfed the leader, and once entrapped in the field, Fredric dissolved instantly into ashes.

There had not been a single day in more than ten annums that Jared left his quarters without his weapon strapped to his side, it was part of his clothing. But this was the first day he genuinely appreciated it. He silently thanked General Beaver for all his lessons, and rushed to console his mate. His one regret was that his weapon had been set to “raze,” and not “daze.”

The prince prepared for battle first, and for lesser infractions later. At this point, he truly wished he had planned differently.

All that was left of Fredric was a small, gray pile on the floor—his last breath long past. And that was too easy a death for the traitor who had wormed his way into Jared’s trust.

_______________________

 

Jared rushed to his mate, clutching him in one arm as he worked to release the bands that restrained Jensen’s wrists with the other. The prince sat back, pulling his mate onto his lap, and softly rocking him. He tenderly touched Jensen’s skin, his fingers rubbing soothing circles in all the places that Jensen would find least threatening: an arm, a shoulder, a knee, if he did so gently. “Shh,” Jared whispered as he rocked.

“M-Misha?” Jensen croaked.

“He…he is here,” Jared stammered. It was not often he was at a loss for words, and it only ever happened when Jensen was around. “He will survive.”

Moments later, the other three guardsmen assigned to Jensen’s detail arrived, along with the general and at least a couple dozen more armed men.

“Avert your eyes! Bring me a cloth!” Jared demanded, still cradling his companion. He removed his shirt and used it to cover what he could. He looked toward the guard who remained unconscious on the ground. “Carry Misha to the Menders or the Curers, whichever he requires, and drag that _criminal_ away!”

Everyone scrambled to follow his orders except General Beaver, who remained behind. He knelt at the prince's side and offered his own uniform top to cover what Jared’s could not.

“You did not summon me. Why not?” Jared lamented, still hugging and rocking his mate. “I told you how, and I explained the importance. Why would you not seek my assistance?”

Jensen looked up, bleary-eyed, “I…I saw my Path…”

“Path where?” Jared asked.

“My Path to the Great Darkness,” Jensen replied honestly. He was exhausted and left without defenses. He did not have any more secrets to hide. In his struggle with Fredric, the path had lost its allure. Perhaps if the battle Jared fought was against people like Fredric, people who wished evil on others simply for who they were, the prince might actually have some redeeming qualities.

“Oh, Jensen!” Jared moaned. “I should have known what was happening. Please forgive me. Leader Fredric was not offering you death, my love. He was not _offering_ you anything at all.” Jared continued to cradle his companion. One of the guards brought a large cloth and Jared took the time to carefully wrap his mate in it.

Jensen struggled to sit up. He wasn’t resisting Jared’s touch; he simply needed to regain his composure. “I know that now.” His voice remained raspy and strained.

Jared took a moment before replying. This was important. It would guide the rest of their lives together. He might even regret asking it at all. “Do you wish to die?”

Jensen stared into Jared’s eyes. A quarter-turn earlier, a _septama_ sooner, even an hour ago, the answer would have been easy. But now, after having stared death in the eye, albeit not the simple passage from one realm to another that Jensen had anticipated, but death nonetheless, his answer was vastly different. “I have had losses,” Jensen began. “I do not know how to make up for them, and I do not wish to lose those memories.”

Jared held his breath, barely able to refrain from interrupting.

Jensen sighed and shook his head. “But, no, I do not wish to die.”


	7. Chapter 7

Jensen startled awake. He must have nodded off after the lights had been dimmed, indicating the change from daytime to evening. The constant thrum of some monitors, and the monotonous bleeps of others made that easy. For the second time, Jensen found himself dozing with his eyes fixated on one of those glowing, pulsing green lines.

Jared pulled over a chair, and sat down behind his mate, pulling Jensen’s shoulders back so that he could recline against the prince, rather than sag forward, forehead resting on the bed before him.

“He will awaken soon,” Jared reassured his mate, gently stroking his hair. “The _former_ guard who was also affected by the weapon has already begun to stir. The Menders tell me that all these monitors show normal readings, but that his unconsciousness is actually speeding the healing process.

Jensen allowed himself to settle against the prince, it seemed these two men were his whole world right now. “They all stare at me,” he mumbled, “Like I am a science project or an animal. No one even attempts to speak to me.”

Jared suppressed a grin. It was the first time his mate showed any interest in communicating with anyone other than the agrician. “They are afraid to speak to you. They know you do not understand their words, and they do not want their actions to remind you of Fredric’s.”

“Why would I think that?” Jensen leaned forward and turned to eye the prince over his shoulder.

“You would not, it is not in your nature.” Jared reassured him, again pulling Jensen closer. “But they were not in the laboratory, and can only guess what truly happened.” He paused for a moment, simply caressing his mate’s shoulder. “You were very courageous in the lab, you know. If not for your inner strength, I fear things would have been much worse for you.”

Jensen stiffened. “I was not so brave. I did seek it,” he admitted meekly.

The Pershebian’s behavior was different than a day earlier, when he had confessed to seeking his Path to the Great Darkness. Jared thought this must be some new admission. “What did you seek?” He asked evenly, reining in his emotions.

“The panel…the scan panel,” Jensen’s voice was still hoarse from the attack, but this tone was different. It was quieter, softer, almost embarrassed. “Not at first, but when…when I knew--”

Jared did not let him finish. “Shh,” he soothed, “You have come so far, my love. A lot has been asked of you, forced upon you, and you have had to learn so much. I have been proud of your strength and independence. But seeking my assistance? That is nothing to be ashamed of; it is something that I hope will come to you naturally one day. It is something that I want to give to you.”

Jensen was quiet for a moment, obviously deep in thought. He sat forward and stared at the glowing and beeping machines. “Is it true?” He finally asked. “That I would suffer the fate you described at the hands of your Ritualists, even if I was taken against my will?”

Jared dropped his head and sighed. This was certainly not a subject he thought he would ever have to concern himself with while they traveled to Fayar. But, he had been wrong, and Jensen nearly paid for that mistake with his life. “It is true. They recognize no difference,” he answered honestly.

“And you?” Jensen looked back at the prince. “What fate would you suffer?”

“I would be found unworthy of the throne. I would have failed to return with a suitable mate.”

“So,” Jensen surmised, “Your fate would be the same whether I reached Fayar impure or did not reach Fayar at all?”

Jared looked up. “Yes. Why would you ask such a thing?”

Jensen turned to fully face the prince, their knees now touching. “If something like what Leader Fredric attempted actually happens to me, will you send me on my Path rather than leave me to face an unearned punishment on Fayar?”

Jared sat up straight. “I will not participate in such a plot! You told me only yesterday that you did not wish to die. Were you lying to me, or have you simply changed your mind so quickly?”

“No, no. You misunderstand my intent.” Jensen’s voice was still struggling to recover, and he reached for the vas on the table nearby. He tried to ignore how his hand trembled as he lifted it to his lips. “I do not wish to die. I know that now. I have a long way to go to rediscover my life, but I will not seek my Path to the Great Darkness. That is a promise I will make to you, if, in turn, you will make a simple promise to me.”

“Go on,” Jared encouraged skeptically when his mate paused.

“I swear that I will not seek my Path, nor will I willingly allow someone to ‘ruin’ me in the eyes of your Ritualists. Will you, in return, promise to take my life before we reach Fayar and I am condemned to a slow and agonizing path, if my fate is decided for me at the hands of another member of the ‘Cause’?”

Jared huffed out a breath at the sound of that word. He had heard whispers of it over the years, and again yesterday, as Jensen described what had transpired in the laboratory before Misha and the prince arrived. When he met Jensen’s eyes, he saw nothing but fear and apprehension there. A part of him regretted explaining the fate of an impure mate, but it was something he had needed to do. He put a hand on Jensen’s thigh in reassurance. “If I cannot protect you from the fate Leader Fredric had planned for you, then I will at least protect you from the Ritualists,” he answered solemnly. “I will not leave you to suffer at their hands.”

It was not the outward promise of death Jensen wanted, but it would do. He glanced down at the prince’s hand upon his thigh and gasped. He traced the red, raised mark encircling Jared’s wrist delicately with one finger. It was the first time he had seen the injury.

Jared leaned forward and whispered in Jensen’s ear, “Do not touch me so intimately if you do not wish for me to respond in kind.”

Jensen pulled away immediately, only to hear the prince chuckle in response. He seemed to fall for every one of Jared’s tricks.

“What happened to your wrist?” Jensen asked sincerely. He reached forward again and lifted the prince’s hand. He noticed that the links around Jared’s wrist glistened just as the one’s around his own neck did. Then, he focused on the burned flesh again. “Am I the cause of this?”

“Not directly, no,” Jared replied. “And you need not fear that I feel anything that I wish to avoid.” He put a hand to his mouth and rubbed, pondering his next move. “Do you wish to hear a story? Are you prepared to learn something of Fayarian/Pershebian history? Or would you prefer to wait for a better time?”

Jensen looked puzzled. He glanced from the unconscious man to the prince and shrugged. “I have nothing but time.”

Jared reached up and fondled the chain around Jensen’s neck. “This _fetter_ —as you call it—is not only the mark of the ‘Chosen,’ but a binding that connects you to me.” He lifted his injured wrist to Jensen’s neck, and when the metals connected, Jensen trembled as a pleasant sensation traveled down his spine and across his limbs, and settled low in his belly—a moan escaped his lips.

The prince smiled again, slowly moving his hand away. “That is how I feel whenever I see you. It is all I can do to resist taking you again, but I do not care to repeat our first encounter. It is how you will feel if you accept your place at my side.” It took a moment before Jared could continue. “Along _my_ path, I traveled to a planet similar to Pershebe in many ways. While the inhabitants of Terengala are primarily peaceful, and their weapons are primitive, they defend their treasures with their lives. It took me three weeks to find my way to the arganthium mines without drawing any attention to myself, and two days of fighting the guards there to extract just enough of the precious metal to forge these links.” He looked into Jensen’s eyes again before proceeding, “I did spill blood, but took no lives. And I returned with the arganthium, as has each heir before me. All but my mother, that is, but that is a story for another time. It is a step in the process toward ascension to the throne, and without that step, I would not have been able to proceed on my journey to claim you.”

Jensen scanned the prince’s face; he felt such honesty in Jared’s words, and the prince’s eyes spoke of the same. Jensen found himself entranced by the story, and he genuinely wanted to hear more. Leaning forward, he rested his own hand just above Jared’s injury.

Encouraged by the soothing touch, Jared continued. “I do not know when the tradition began, it has been in place for as long as any royal can remember. My grandfather made the journey to Pershebe and brought back his life’s mate. He placed his own arganthium links around her neck, and loved her until the day she passed to the other side.”

“What happened then?” Jensen interrupted, like a child eagerly awaiting the ending of a bedtime story.

“While my grandparents’ mating added much to our societies, my grandmother never accepted her place on Fayar or at my grandfather’s side.” Jared continued the tale. “So when she passed, he could have simply removed the chain from his wrist, but he chose not to. He allowed their bond to burn through his wrist and sever his left hand completely. Despite her resistance to accept the position, she had given him many gifts. My mother was just one of those, and as a result, I was another. His hand was his final gift to her. He never forgot her, and he died still mourning her loss.”

“And if you die, what will happen to me?” Jensen asked, lifting a finger to trace the links encompassing his neck.

Jared smiled at his mate, taking the bright, questioning expression as a signal to be honest, even to play a little. He let his fingers glide up toward his mate’s neck, and allowed his own bracelet to make contact with Jensen’s chain for a brief moment again, just to watch Jensen’s eyes flutter closed. “That depends,” the prince began, “Your fate, and mine as well, are in your hands. If I pass before you accept your place at my side, the chain will simply slip from your neck. There will be no further bond between us, and we will never have a way of finding each other on the other side. However, if you accept your position—choosing to openly display your choice by attaching the medallion to your chain—we are bound for eternity. If I pass, you will do so as well; and if you pass first, I will follow directly behind.”

“That is too much to ask of me,” Jensen gasped. “How can I make such a choice?”

“There is no time limit on your decision, Jensen,” Jared chided. “You have until I take my last breath to accept.” He put his hand around the nape of Jensen’s neck and drew him in, whispering softly in his mate’s ear, “But I would not want to spend eternity without you.”

Jensen turned his head toward the prince’s voice. His lips were parted, but he had no words to offer.

“B-berries,” a groan came from the man lying in the bed before them. His eyes were closed, and other than the mumbled words, he still appeared unconscious. “Pressure, temperature…the potion will be lost.”

Jensen jumped from his chair and turned to Jared momentarily. “What did he say? Is he okay?” He demanded.

“Misha is scolding you for neglecting your elixir,” Jared explained. “He does not want the work to be for nothing.”

“Gods! My nectar!” Jensen was pacing in a two-step, back-and-forth pattern—there wasn’t much space. “I-I cannot go. I cannot leave him without care.”

It made Jared’s heart warm to hear the familiar Fayarian expression spill from his mate’s lips.

“Not alone,” Misha whispered beseechingly toward the prince. “The Menders are here, even the Curers, should I need them. Do not allow him to lose what keeps him alive.”

The prince smiled tenderly at Misha. He whispered words to him, and patted his shoulder softly. Even now, the young agrician was concerned about Jensen’s mental stability.

“What did he say?” Jensen demanded. He fell to his knees beside his friend, but Misha’s eyes remained closed. Jensen looked back at Jared. “What did he say?!”

“Get up, Jen,” Jared insisted. “He is saying that he is fine and that you must tend to your elixir if you want it to prove effective.” The prince carefully reworded the agrician’s statement. “He is telling you that there are others to take care of him, but only you can tend to your concoction.”

“Yes,” Jensen agreed, nodding his head, “Only I,…I must go…all that work will be lost.” He was pacing again, and obviously speaking to himself. Suddenly, he turned and headed for the door.

“Not alone! You will not go alone!” Jared roared, following on his mate’s tail.

Misha opened his eyes as they left. He smiled softly as he saw Jensen slow down and wait for the prince.

________________________________

 

“I am fine!” Misha frowned at his friend. He was long tired of the extra care and concern. He had been himself for two days now, and the additional attention had grown tiresome.

The heir’s presence only made it worse, as every time Jensen doted upon his friend, carried something for him, or brought him food or drink, the prince stood back, folded his arms, and grinned. Enough was enough!

“What did he say?” Jensen asked the prince, repeating what seemed to be a never-ending mantra.

Jared sighed, “He said the same thing he has said for the last two days. You should know those words by now.”

“I understand the words,” Jensen agreed, “But why would he say them?”

“Because you are treating him like a child and not a friend,” the prince scolded. “He does not wish to hold such a status in your eyes.”

Jensen turned silently to his friend. He lowered his head and pressed his hands together. “Tell him that I am sorry. I do not wish that either.”

Misha put a hand on Jensen’s shoulder, and smiled when the Pershebian looked up at him hopefully.

“He knows, Jensen. He feels what you feel.” This seemed like the appropriate time to address the issue. Jensen seemed not to notice, but both the prince and the agrician had. Jared had even brought it up to General Beaver, who had much more experience with Pershebians. Jared kept his attention on his mate and continued slowly, “I have heard of it before, though I have never witnessed it myself. My grandmother—who was Pershebian-born—died just months after my birth, but it is said that she had a dear friend on Fayar who understood her thoughts before even she knew them herself.”

“That cannot be!” Jensen insisted. “How can someone know another’s thoughts before they are formed?”

“A simple exaggeration,” Jared explained, rubbing a hand across his mate’s shoulder. “It means only that her beloved friend felt her thoughts at the moment she formed them. It is a connection spoken of frequently in our history guides—another link between Pershebe and Fayar. I did not know until after the attack, that Misha was that friend to you.”

Noise from the far side of the laboratory door drew Jared’s attention, and even Misha bristled.

There was no real fear at the moment; the laboratory could no longer be accessed without the prince’s consent. Ever since the _event_ , Jared took extra precautions. He used the scan panel to view the image beyond the door, and saw the remaining contingent of his selected guardsmen standing on the other side. He was expecting them, but was unsure of when they would arrive. Three strong men—wise, courageous and inventive—stood with bowed heads, seeking repentance. It took only a moment for Jared to allow them entry, and for Misha to assume his place between them and the Chosen.

Jensen watched nervously as the three crimson and silver clad guardsmen entered without a sound. Even _Joker_ seemed to have lost his smile. The men bypassed the prince, and somehow moved to position themselves in front of Jensen without interfering with Misha’s protection. They all dropped to their knees and their heads hit the ground. Jensen winced at the sound. “What is this?” He asked the prince.

“Forgiveness, My Lord,” _Elder_ begged. “We are here to ask for your forgiveness and to offer our lives for your protection.”

Jensen blinked. The words—Pershebian words—sunk in. He looked toward the prince for an answer, but Jared remained expressionless, clearly leaving the choice to Jensen. He still hated the prince’s choices.

“I…forgive you,” he mumbled, unsure of what else he might say that they would understand. And in all honesty, it was true; he hadn’t thought once to hold the other guardsmen liable for the actions of one.

“Thank you,” _Elder_ sighed.

But before Jensen could reply, _Fighter_ spoke softly. Although it was the first time Jensen heard it, _Fighter’s_ voice was much like he had expected it to be: low, gravelly, and without unnecessary panache. “Choose our punishment.”

“What?” Jensen’s head swung toward the prince. “I do not understand.”

Jared took that moment to walk around the prostrate guardsmen, and wrap an arm around his mate. He was proud of Jensen, and proud of his guardsmen. “They are asking you for penance: A price to pay for their failure to protect you. You name it, and they will follow through—even unto death.”

Jensen gasped, “Why would I ask that of them? Of anyone?” He looked down at the guardsmen in horror. “Do they understand my words?”

“No,” the prince shook his head, “They only know the words they memorized to make their plea. The rest is up to you to name, and up to me to translate. Name your price for their redemption.”

“They learned my words? Who taught them?” Jensen inquired.

“I did,” Jared replied immediately. There was no reason to hedge around the issue.

“Did they seek punishment from you?” Jensen continued his assessment.

“No, only words. I did not ask for a reason.”

“But you knew…” Jensen guessed.

“Of course I knew. But again, while I will gladly make many choices for you,” Jared said, a wry smile crossing his face, “This is not one of them. Their punishment is in your hands.”

“So, they went to you to learn _my_ words,” Jensen rubbed his chin. It was not a question, more of a step in a mathematical theorem. “And you provided those words without guidance.”

Jared offered nothing more than a nod.

“They could have expected much worse at your hands than simple translation, am I correct?”

Again, Jared nodded.

“Then that is enough,” Jensen exhaled. “What more could I ask of them? They learned my words in order to request my forgiveness and exact a punishment. To me, that seems punishment enough, and proves their loyalty to you and your choice.”

Jared removed his arm from his mate and uttered harsh words to the guardsmen. Jensen was fearful for a moment that he had made the wrong decision. But the men rose, expressions of relief upon their faces, and left. Misha followed quietly behind.

“I am so proud of you!” Jared exclaimed, wrapping his arms around his mate and lifting him inches in the air. “You are perfect for me. Even though it was the correct move, I would not have made the same decision. I was too angry, and would have demanded blood. But not you! You suffered for their failure and offered them reprieve, I believe you have earned their life-long loyalty.”

“I have earned loyalty with a handful of words?” Jensen asked incredulously. “I do not understand your world.”

“No, it is my world that does not understand you. And we are all the more fortunate for it,” Jared continued to embrace his mate. As long as Jensen did not pull away, Jared was glad for the contact.

A bell clanged, and Jensen stepped back. Jared allowed his escape.

“My elixir,” he mumbled, somewhat overwhelmed by the afternoon’s happenings. “It is ready.”

“Then tonight we will celebrate two things,” Jared replied without hesitation. “We will celebrate your mastery of science, and your mastery of my guardsmen.”


	8. Chapter 8

Jared watched the _Keepers_ clean up what was left of their evening meal and turn down his bed, the bed he would prefer to call _theirs_ , but still could not. The _Keepers_ left the pile of blankets on the floor untouched. Once they folded and stacked them by the footboard each morning, they did not touch them again for the rest of the day. When they completed their tasks, they turned and dropped their heads in a bow toward the heir. He returned the gesture with practiced ease.  


Jensen was several feet away, lost in his work on the silky white elixir. With one hand, he stirred the potion reverently, and with the other, he held a slim pipette, lowering it into the solution every few minutes. The _Keepers_ turned toward the Chosen and waited until they had his attention to offer him their bows, as well. Jared smirked at Jensen’s surprised response. Jensen cleared his throat and grinned in return, offering the tiniest tilt of his head when his smile did not seem to make them rise. They left immediately after that, the door closing behind them.

“Word has spread,” Jared began, slowly approaching his mate. He watched as Jensen raised his eyes to track the prince's advance. “You could have given the guardsmen any punishment—and they would have followed through—but you chose forgiveness instead. That has gained you much favor in our small community. Still, you must continue to be wary, not all will accept you so easily.” He placed a hand on Jensen’s hip, maintaining a small distance between them, and looked steadily into his mate’s crystalline green eyes. “Do you think that perhaps one day you might forgive me as well?”

Jensen broke their stare and stopped stirring for a moment. His grip on the pipette tightened. A minute of silence passed, and Jared began to think his mate might not respond at all. “It is not so easy Jared,” he finally said. “Their mistakes—crimes if you choose to call them that—were errors of omission, errors in judgment. They might not have wanted the job that was assigned to them, but they intended to see it through.

“But yours? Your crimes were deliberate; they were committed with intent and planning. And y-you carried them out…” Jensen paused when he felt his voice waver. It took several moments before he could continue. It was still hard to talk about that day. “You carried them out despite my pleas for you to stop. You continued even until I bled. That is a very different crime.”

“It is indeed.” Jared did not hide his disheartened sigh. “I am sure this will mean little to you now, but just know that our bond means much to both our worlds.”

The prince broke contact and walked across the room to the plush sofa. He sat down on the edge, and let out another sigh, this one seemingly intended to divert the conversation. “The _Keepers_ have finished for the evening, and I have sealed the door so that only you or I can open it. It appears to be time. Come, Jensen, show me how you have used the resources of both Pershebe and Fayar to create your concoction.”

Jensen followed him over to the couch slowly and sat down next to the prince. He held a vas of sweetened plum juice in one hand, and the slim pipette in the other. “You still trust me in this?” He asked.

Jared wrapped an arm around Jensen’s waist, careful not to bump either arm. “Of course I do. You have given me no reason not to. Now, what should I do?” He scanned the length of the sofa. “Should I lay down or just sit here?”

The young Pershebian gave him a questioning look. It was almost like he was seeing a younger, more playful version of the prince—like friends setting up rules for a new game. “I am uncertain, none of my father’s animals appeared physically affected, but perhaps lying down might be the best option.” He scooted off the couch and knelt next to it on the floor, careful of the contents in his hands.

Jared gave him a wicked grin as he moved to recline. He raised a hand and caressed Jensen’s face, feeling the hint of stubble that now graced his cheeks each evening. It seemed to have occurred overnight. “You look good there,” the prince leered, “Remind me of it in case I forget after this.”

Jensen gave him another skeptical look even as the color began to rise in his cheeks, and Jared just chuckled before turning serious. “Come now, my love. Let us do this.”

The younger man nodded his head in response as he lifted the slim pipette over the vas and silently counted out five drops as they hit the surface of the juice and disappeared beneath. He used a hollow stick to stir the mixture completely before offering it to the prince with a trembling hand.

As he accepted the liquid, Jared once again touched Jensen’s cheek, a smile crossing his face. “And how long will this last?” He asked, not waiting for a response before putting the straw in his mouth, sucking in and swallowing several large mouthfuls of the liquid, and leaving only a few drops in the very bottom of the glass.

Jensen again felt the color rise in his cheeks, but this time his cock swelled in his pants, as well, as he watched the display. He had no idea why that happened, and now was not the time to ask. “M-minutes, I believe,” he stated. And then continued in a whisper, “But I will keep you safe.”

He took the vas from Jared’s hand and watched for any signs that the elixir was beginning to take effect.

Jensen had thought his last words too low for the prince to hear, but Jared smiled and nodded his acceptance of Jensen’s promise. “I trust you.”

Jared’s fingers continued to caress Jensen’s cheek, even though his strokes grew lighter until they were nothing more than feathery touches that tickled the Pershebian’s flesh. Finally, Jensen moved the prince’s hand away and asked, “Why would you do that?”

That simple question seemed to trigger a change in Jared’s demeanor. His smile disappeared and his eyes grew hazy. “Because it gives me comfort to know that you are within reach and it makes my body ache to touch you more. It is the only relief I have to the longing I have always felt but never understood. And it is all that I can have of you right now.”

Jensen’s eyes snapped to the prince’s. This was it! It was what he had been waiting for. It was not the answer to the question that he had meant to ask, but how could the prince know that? He was merely providing the information that was being asked of him.

“You misunderstand my question, Jared,” Jensen replied smoothly, “Why would you trust me to keep you safe?” There were questions Jensen had planned to ask in the few minutes he had, and this was not one of them. But why not start with the most basic?

Jared’s voice was monotone, almost as if he were in some sort of trance. “Because it is the only thing I have to offer you that might possibly provide you a modicum of reassurance and comfort. Surrendering my trust to you can only make our bond more secure. I want what my great-grandparents shared. I want a lover and a partner for all of our Journeys. I do not want a lifetime of struggles and frustration.”

Jensen gulped. He tried to focus on the long list of questions he had in his mind. He did not have much time to accomplish two major purposes: assess the veracity of his elixir, and gather as much information as he could about the fate that had befallen him.

“Why Pershebe? Why do the royals of Fayar seek their mates from Pershebe?” This was the key to the puzzle after all.

“I will not know everything until I ascend to the throne,” Jared replied immediately. “Many details are withheld by the Ritualists until the heir has proven him or herself worthy of the information. But I do know that long ago Pershebe was far more technologically advanced than it is now, and that other worlds began to take notice of your little planet. We on Fayar have always been warriors, but we have never conquered for the purpose of imprisoning other peoples. We do not have slaves.”

“Go on,” Jensen coaxed when Jared paused.

“While Pershebe was technologically advanced, it was also inherently peaceful. They maintained no weapons to defend themselves. They had many scientists who wrote prolifically, and described such weapons. But your _Elders_ had never permitted any to be created. Pershebe was defenseless. When the first King of Fayar orbited the planet, there were several warships approaching from different worlds. It was only the fear of the Fayarian’s that kept them away.

“King Julian took a small landing party and met with the _Elders_ of Pershebe. He explained what fate awaited them from other orbiting warships, and as he stood there waiting to hear their response, still unsure what help he was willing to offer, he began to tremble. He felt—deep within him—a gut-wrenching pull, a desire so strong, that for him, it was irresistible. I did not understand the concept until I experienced it for myself when I felt your presence. When Julian looked up, there was a beautiful young woman standing just a few feet behind the Elders. King Julian was entranced. He had found his life’s mate. And even though he had already reached an advanced age, it was something he had been unable to find before. So he decided then to do whatever it took to secure her.”

Jared stopped speaking for a moment and looked around, not really seeing anything. Thinking quickly, Jensen grabbed a vas of water and offered it to the prince.

After a few sips, Jared continued, “A treaty was struck. The details of which, I will only learn once I ascend to the throne. But it is said that the bond between Julian and Lindsey was intense and benefitted both Pershebe and Fayar. Following the treaty, your _Elders_ abandoned their scientific pathways and destroyed much of their research. That is all I know.”

Jensen nodded his head in agreement. That was certainly true. He had searched through the ancient tomes, but huge sections always seemed to be missing. And the methods used to achieve most of the results mentioned in the books he did manage to find, were unavailable at Academy, or anywhere else on Pershebe.

“What do you fear the most, Jared?” Jensen continued his interrogation. He might not have much time left.

“I have many fears. I am not sure that I can choose just one,” the prince replied automatically.

“Tell me three.” Jensen quickly modified his request.

“I fear that my mother’s decision not to seek a Pershebian mate left both our worlds at risk," Jared growled, "And that if I am unworthy of the throne, our worlds will crumble.”

“Why would that be?” Jensen interrupted. The force of the prince’s words took him by surprise.

“There is much treachery and deceit on Fayar these days, within the entire realm. You have even experienced it here, far from our home.” Jared replied. “We must regain stability.”

The reference to our home struck Jensen hard, but he refrained from responding to it.

“I do not know all that we offer Pershebe at this time, but I know that the combined strength of a Fayarian/Pershebian royal couple has strengthened and enriched Fayarian society for more than a thousand annums. I can only assume Pershebe must also benefit. Why else would the Pershebian _Elders_ continue to uphold their end of the treaty?”

Jensen nodded his silent agreement. “What else do you fear?”

“I fear that during the loss of communication with Fayar, Alona, my lovely cousin and dearest friend, will fall to the will of my father. He is a Leader on Fayar, and a mighty presence. Most defer to his judgment even though he is not worthy to rule. Well, he cannot rule if I return with a mate, that is.”

Jensen was again confused by the relationship and the hatred Jared clearly held for his father. “Why would you fear your father’s leadership?”

“He is the devil invited in!” Jared hissed, emotion lacing his words for the first time since the elixir entered his system. “My mother’s view of the fate of a Pershebian mate was skewed by her own, Pershebian-born mother’s perception, so she did not seek a mate from Pershebe for herself. She found a mate elsewhere, knowing that she would never rule because of her decision. And he killed her! I know it to be true, though none can prove it. He did not even take her life quickly; he left her to waste for years, the coward! And now he seeks to usurp authority although he has earned none of it! The only way a non-Fayarian/Pershebian pair can rule is if there is no viable member of the royal bloodline still alive to claim a Pershebian mate. And now, I am the last. If I die, or do not succeed in my attempt to bring home a pure Pershebian mate, he can wed my cousin, Alona, and rule as if born to it.

“It has always been his goal. Of that, I have no doubt. If not for the watchful eye of first my grandfather, and later the general, I am certain I would not have survived to adulthood. Since the death of my grandfather fifteen annums ago, our world has been left in the hands of the Leaders to maintain until I reached maturity, and much has fallen apart while Fayar awaits my return.”

Jensen gulped. It seemed a huge burden for a man only five years his senior to bear. But even worse, it was a burden that Jared had accepted many tides ago. The prince had always known his fate, had always recognized his own father's filicidal intentions. Jensen shook himself from the thought.

“And what else, Jared? What else do you fear?” His words nearly ran together, certain that he was running out of time.

“I fear that my concerns about Fayar distracted me,” Jared replied simply, offering no further elaboration.

“Distracted you from what?” Jensen encouraged, although he was beginning to get that eerie sick feeling he got when eavesdropping on a conversation not meant for his ears. This was not about Fayarian history or the explanation of events already passed, this was the prince's internal emotional turmoil. A place Jensen was not certain he should trespass.

“I should have seen the attack coming,” Jared admitted. “My concerns about communication with Fayar clouded my judgment and left you subject to victimization at Fredric’s hands. I should have been there.” Those last five words were barely a whisper.

“I am fine,” Jensen offered, uncertain why he felt the need to comfort the prince at that moment. He rubbed a hand across Jared’s forehead. “I did not fair poorly. Do you believe me to be powerless?” It was not a question he intended to ask, but once it left his mouth, it seemed quite appropriate.

“Oh, no,” Jared gasped, “You have more strength than you recognize, you simply do not know how to use it.”

Those words put ideas in the young Pershebian’s head. But for now, he had one final question on his list.

“What do you regret the most?” He asked it, almost afraid to hear the response. He already knew his potion worked, why did he continue to pursue the questioning?

“I regret that my position required that I claim you as I did, and that in doing so, I might never gain your forgiveness.” His hand rose toward Jensen again, and the younger man did not pull away. The cloudiness remained in the prince’s gaze. “But I think we will someday be okay.”

“You do?” Jensen gulped, “Why is that?”

“I think that you are already beginning to forgive me. You just cannot admit it to yourself yet. You no longer hide from me, or shrink away from my touches. But it is reasonable that you would choose not to make such an admission. While I desire your forgiveness with all my heart, I am not certain I have earned it.”

That last confession left Jensen with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had asked far more than he needed in order to verify the efficacy of his elixir, or even to gain knowledge about his predicament. He had delved into someone's innermost thoughts and feelings when they were unable to protect themselves from divulging their most intimate secrets. How was that less of a crime than that which had been perpetrated against him? He sat back on his heels and rose after another moment’s reflection.

“I will prepare for the night now. Will you be okay, Jared?” This question he asked with sincerity.

“Of course, my love,” Jared responded, blinking away the fog.

Jensen left immediately.

___________________________

Jared came back to himself slowly. It seemed that he remembered the entire interaction, even the awkward moments, but he would wait until the morn to be certain. By the time Jensen returned from the bath, it was easy to rise from the sofa and attend to his own nighttime ritual. He turned down the lights in the bath, and returned to the main room, startled by what he saw.

Each night, every night since he claimed his mate ended in only one of two variations—Jared would crawl into his bed after finding Jensen already curled in his nest of blankets. Or Jared would complete his nighttime custom first, and wait in his bed only to be disappointed when his mate fumbled through the dark to seek warmth at the foot of the bed.

Each night, he had remembered the general’s words, and kept them close to his heart. The general had never before steered him wrong.

But tonight was different. Jensen was sitting on the sofa. Jared could see his shadow. The younger man slowly rocked back and forth on the edge, his head lowered into his palms. At a loss for what else to do, the prince followed his usual course of action and headed to his bed, dimming the closest light. He scooted to one side, as had become his habit, and turned to watch his mate.

Several minutes past before Jared noticed even a slight change in his mate’s movements. But when it happened, it happened all at once. Jensen rose quickly and approached the bed. Jared was nearly overwhelmed, and it took every lesson that his grandfather, the Leaders, and the general had taught him, not to react.

Jared remained motionless in the bed as Jensen slipped beneath the covers beside him.

“I wish to feel your warmth, your comfort, nothing more. Is that acceptable?” Jensen whispered.

Even then, Jared felt his mate stiffen—his pride resisting his desires. The prince placed a gentle arm around his mate and suppressed his elation. There would come a better time to express that.

“Yes,” he murmured in Jensen’s ear, “That is most acceptable, my love. Come, we will both find a sound sleep and I will seek no more…for now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second to last chapter in _Acclimation._ The last chapter is over 10K words long, and it might take me a couple of days to get through it and post.
> 
> If you like this, or even just have something to say about it, please let me know. It makes my heart happy! <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it is okay that I divided this last chapter into two parts. They are both over 5,000 words, so I thought it would work okay.
> 
> Thank you all for the lovely and thought provoking comments. I would love to hear whatever you think. I know this sort of thing is quite controversial..

“No, no,” Jared scolded, casually running a hand down Jensen’s spine. “When you put the ‘g’ and ‘h’ together, they don’t make any sound at all. Unless they are at the beginning of a word, of course.”

Jensen shivered and drew away slightly. “I don’t think I will ever figure this out!” He exclaimed. “How can you make so few letters into such a nightmare?”

Jared laughed like he did every evening. It did not matter how tense he felt each day on the Command Deck, an evening with his mate took it all away, even if Jensen never realized it. “You have no idea how much progress you have made,” Jared responded slowly in Fayarian, waiting to see if Jensen noticed in which language the prince replied. More and more often, Jensen did not. Tonight was no different.

The younger man stood up, perplexed. “I do not believe I will ever understand,” he whispered, dipping his head low, and turning away from the prince.

“Wait,” Jared called out as his mate began to walk away, “What is wrong with you tonight?” He rose to follow Jensen and wrapped an arm around him loosely. “Honestly, in everything you do, I find a reason to be proud.”

Jensen turned in his grasp and looked at him skeptically.

“Do you doubt me?” The prince asked. “Have I lied to you thus far?”

“I-I do not believe so,” Jensen faltered slightly.

“But you do not know,” Jared finished his comment.

“No,” Jensen huffed, “I do not. How can I?”

Jared had to suppress both a grimace and a grin: The former at the thought that his mate still lacked faith in him, and the latter at the fact that they had carried on an entire conversation—no matter how rudimentary—in Fayarian without Jensen even realizing it.

Jared sighed heavily as he took a few steps away from his mate. He converted back to Pershebian. He did not want Jensen to misinterpret the meaning of his words. “Just five drops of your elixir. I cannot believe that is all it took. And it lasted for how long?” Even though it had been two weeks, they had spoken little of the actual event. Jensen seemed a bit skittish whenever the prince brought it up, and Jared had not wanted to spook him further.

“F-fifteen minutes, I believe,” Jensen mumbled, again lowering his head.

“Fifteen minutes, you know!” Jared exclaimed. “Do not discount it. You should be proud. I know I am. I remember the entire interaction, even if not the exact passage of time, and I do not regret a moment of it. Why would you? I am so proud of you!”

Jensen looked up suddenly, his eyes seeking the prince’s for reassurance.

Jared grinned and nodded in an effort to relieve his mate’s doubts. “Five drops,” he continued in awe, “And you made what, five cotyls?” He paused long enough to catch Jensen’s shy nod. “That is enough to make an entire planet honest for a day or to keep a man truthful for an entire lifetime!” He exclaimed, walking toward the table to grab his drink. He planned to offer it in a salute.

“I do not know that to be true,” Jensen interrupted the prince’s revelry. “I do not know that it would last so long as that.”

Jared turned abruptly. “How long does it last?”

“I have no idea. I only tested it for harmful effects before,” Jensen paused for a moment. “We would need to wait a few _septamas..._ ”

“Weeks,” Jared corrected instinctively.

“Weeks,” Jensen repeated. The pattern of language lessons had grown familiar. “We would need to wait a few weeks and test for harmful effects again before testing for efficacy.”

“So after we ensure its safety, perhaps we can test it on you this time,” the prince replied immediately.

Jensen was speechless, his mouth agape.

Jared laughed heartily, unable to hold it back. “No, my love, I would never ask that of you if you would not offer it freely. That is one promise I will make without reservation.”

The young Pershebian relaxed. He was not sure what he had to hide, or even if what he was hiding was from the prince or from himself. But whatever it was, Jared’s promise offered some comfort. 

___________________________  


“I have not been here since before you claimed your mate,” the general stated evenly, sipping his drink and glancing about the room. “Where is he now?”

“He is in the laboratory with Misha, trying to decide how best to ensure that his elixir does not gain harmful effects as it ages,” Jared replied respectfully. “Forgive me for not inviting you sooner, General. These have been difficult times.”

“Gods, Jared! I was not scolding you, son. I was merely mentioning the fact that I had not seen the changes in your quarters.” A smirk crossed the weathered warrior’s face as he continued his perusal.

“Changes?” Jared questioned, “What changes?”

“Well, let’s start with the simplest,” he had to pause as he tried to suppress the smile beginning to spread across his face. “You told me where your mate was sleeping, where did his nest disappear to?”

“General!” The prince stood up straight, and tried to act shocked, but it was difficult to suppress his own grin. He had longed for the day he would return to his quarters without seeing a stack of blankets on the floor, and that day had come and gone. For more than two weeks now, his mate had shared his bed. Shared it, but nothing more.

“Relax, My Lord,” General Beaver replied immediately. “My intentions are good. I only seek reassurance that you did not lower your resolve and allow him to enter your bed without first requesting your permission. Remember, I am one of a mere few still living who have witnessed how wonderful and intense the bond between a Fayarian and Pershebian Royal Pair can become.” He lowered his head to rest his neck for a moment before he looked up again. The prince was much taller than he. “I had hoped that your grandfather would experience it fully, and your mother as well, but neither did. Now it looks like the fate of all on Fayar rests in your hands. And it is a far more difficult path than most realize.”

“Although we have gone no further,” Jared replied, “He did seek my permission to lie with me.” Jared let out a breath. It felt so good to tell someone. “Every day, it feels better.”

“I remember your great-grandparents,” The general reminisced. “I was just a young soldier then, but as you know, my father fought along-side your grandfather in the Gerandellar Wars. So I saw much of their connection. I was very fortunate to see it, not many have such an opportunity. And I was there when your grandfather was called home on the day they passed—together, as one.”

Jared looked away for a moment and blinked back a tear. He was the rightful heir to the throne. No one should see weakness in him now, not even the general!

“Jared, you miss my point!” General Beaver growled. “There was no sorrow that day, only happiness. Most people say that no other Royal Pair had been happier or accomplished more since the days of King Julian and his chosen, Lindsey. And when your great-grandparents continued onto their next journey, they left together, as they were meant to.”

General Beaver paused for a moment and shook his head, “I fear it is something your grandfather still regrets, well into his next journey. He confessed to me, long after your grandmother passed, that he believed his lenience was the cause of her unhappiness.”

“I do not understand,” Jared querried. “How can that be?”

“How many times did your grandfather say to you, ‘Beware, carefully timed gives and takes should guide your relationship?’ Do you even remember?” The general asked.

Jared thought for a moment. His grandfather was a solid memory in his mind. While the prince’s mother had lived for the first six years of his life, she had always been sickly and frail, nearly always bedridden. His grandfather on the other hand, not only outlived her by four years, but was a strong, robust figure as well. He was outspoken and confident in all that he did. That line was as familiar to the prince as “drink your milk so you will grow strong and tall.”

“He said that often,” Jared admitted.

“It was difficult for him,” General Beaver divulged, as if it were a secret. “It was something he never understood until it was too late, and he wanted to make sure you learned that lesson well.”

“I do not understand what you are trying to say, general,” the prince stated. “You make it sound so simple and so complex at the same time.”

General Beaver took another sip of his tonic. “Your grandfather was my friend long after my own father passed, and I remember how hard he worked to make life easy for your grandmother. His guilt overcame him, and he spent his life trying to answer for what he had done. He tried to _give_ her everything, never encouraging her to earn it. Do not take my words wrong. I am not suggesting she should have worked in the kitchens or scrubbed his floors, but the more she resisted his overtures, the more he acquiesced. And neither of them benefitted in the end. He was an old man with only one hand by the time he realized the foolishness of his ways, and he wanted better for his grandson.” With those last words, the general stared directly at the prince. “Do not let your grandfather’s mistakes be in vain, learn from them, Jared.”

“I am trying, General,” the prince replied. “Jensen means everything to me, and if the trials my grandparents suffered through will bring us closer together, then I will do my best to learn from them.”

“I can’t ask more from you…” He stopped speaking instantly as the door slid open. He was too well trained to do otherwise. His eyes turned immediately to the moving panel.

“I wish to have a weapon,” Jensen demanded, seeing the prince as soon as he entered their quarters. “I care not to be caught…Gods!” He shrieked the second he turned the corner and saw the Fayarian officer in their quarters.

Jensen froze in place, standing directly before the prince. Without any idea what else to do, he began to drop to his knees. He remembered vividly what the prince had said about speaking out harshly in public.

Not that Jensen wanted a punishment in private, but he could take it.  But to be subject to such publicly was more than he could bear. He was only now beginning to feel some pride in himself in this strange place, a public spanking, or some other form of discipline, was surely more than he could withstand. This moment of groveling was difficult enough. “I’m sorry, My Lord,” he mumbled, “I-I did not k-know.”

“Jensen!” Jared exclaimed, reaching out and grabbing his mate before he could continue his descent. He wrapped his arms securely around Jensen, pulling him up, and into his chest. “What are you doing? You remember General Beaver, do you not? He was in the laboratory, _that_ day.”

Jensen kept his head lowered, and silently shook it back and forth against the prince’s chest.

“Then I am remiss.” Jared spoke slowly and calmly in Fayarian. He paused for a moment and then continued more formally, “Jensen, my love and chosen mate, this is General Beaver. He was a friend to my grandfather, and nearly raised me as his own. He taught me to fight, and if not for him, I believe I would have died in battle before I reached my eighteenth ascension.” Jared smiled broadly. “General Beaver, my friend and trusted ally, this is Jensen, the Chosen. He is all that I seek, and all that I shall desire for all of my journeys.”

The general bowed slightly and Jensen followed suit after a moment of staring at the prince, his eyes wide with wonder. Memories flashed through his mind from the evening they had tested his elixir.

_If not for the watchful eye of first my grandfather, and later the general, I am certain I would not have survived to adulthood._

This must be the man whom the prince had spoken of so fondly. This was the man who had protected Jared from the harm his father intended for him.

“Jared?” He whispered against the prince’s ear. “What do you expect of me now? I do not wish to embarrass you before someone who is so dear to you.”

The prince had to take a few deep breaths before he could respond to his mate’s concerns. It took only moments for Jensen to go from fearing for himself to protecting the prince’s pride. His mate had indeed made much progress, but it was nothing that Jared could claim credit for, this was all a result of Jensen’s strength of character. The prince could only be grateful for it.

Jared rubbed a hand soothingly along his mate’s back. He moved his lips slowly to Jensen’s ear. “First,” he whispered, “Do not ever sink to your knees before me if I do not request it, or you do not have much more enjoyable plans in mind.”

Jensen startled quickly and tried to pull away, but Jared was ready for it. “Relax,” he continued to whisper, “I am only teasing you, trying to change your mood.” He pulled his head back just enough to see his mate, and continued in a normal tone, “You have nothing to fear when speaking in the general’s presence, but this might be a good time to reconsider how to approach such a situation. Perhaps in the future, you might look around to see who is in the room before you make your demands of me.” Jensen remained in his arms, and the prince noticed General Beaver’s approving nod just over his mate’s shoulder.

He pulled away and faced Jensen squarely, leaning on the table behind him. “Now, make your request of me.”

Jensen glanced back and forth between the two men before continuing. “I would like a weapon,” he began hesitantly, switching to Pershebian for his own comfort. “I have used one before, and I do not wish to be caught unarmed again, as I was in the laboratory.”

Jared scowled for a moment. “You have used a weapon in the past? Have you injured another?”

“No, of course not!” Jensen rushed to answer, like the idea was absurd. He was reminded again that every time a serious altercation presented itself, it seemed Christian was there to defend him. “But I would not hesitate to do so if my life, or my…my… _safety_ depended on it!”

“That I do not doubt,” Jared replied, “But I would prefer to defend you myself.”

“You are not always available,” Jensen countered, “And I would not want you to worry that I am incapable of…”

Jared chuckled, lifting his weight away from the table.  “Oh, I do not worry about your capability. Perhaps I could give you lessons with my first Disc. It is a training weapon, but still, it is quite formidable.”

“What are you offering him, My Lord?” The general inquired, trying to follow the mix of Fayarian and Pershebian words.

“He wishes not to be caught defenseless if attacked again,” Jared quickly explained to the older Fayarian. “I am considering giving him lessons with my training Disc and seeing how he performs.”

The general let out a deep breath. “That would be a great honor!  Do you trust him with a weapon such as that?”

“Jared?” Jensen questioned softly, confused by the interruption. “What is he saying?”

“It is okay, my love,” Jared replied evenly in Pershebian, to make it more intimate. “I have made my decision. I will give you lessons with the Disc that was a gift to me from the general himself. From there, you will have to earn anything more with your performance on the range.”

Jensen nodded his agreement. Silently, the prince set a price for the lessons—to be discussed at a later time.

___________________

  


Jensen stared silently at the white mixture in the glass enclosure.  Misha stood close at his side. “It looks the same,” the Fayarian offered. “When do we start?”

“Yes, it does look the same.” Jensen agreed, stirring the concoction with a glass rod grasped tightly in one of the neoprene gloves. He had learned to use them adeptly by now. “We can test it in a week, perhaps two.” He continued, turning to his friend. “It seems the pressure and the temperature constants have kept the elixir unchanged. Do you agree?”

“I am not a Leader,” Misha replied, “But it looks the same.”

Jensen laughed. “I think you are as much a “leader” as I am. We might apply some of the liquid to plants in the agritory next week and see what happens. Will you help me?”

“Of course.” Misha looked at his friend awkwardly. “Why would I not?”

“I...” Jensen fumbled with his words. Their conversations often proceeded along these lines. “I only meant to ask if you would like to, not if you actually _would_.”

Misha nodded in understanding, as he often did. Grinning as he wandered around the laboratory. “I guess we are the leaders here, now, aren’t we?”

They were both laughing when the door slid open and Jared walked in. “What is so funny?” The prince inquired.

As usual, when the prince entered Misha became silent and allowed Jensen to respond to the heir’s questions.

“We were just laughing at how low the state of science in this laboratory has sunk, that Misha and I are now the leading scientific minds here,” Jensen replied, still smirking.

“I think you do not give yourselves sufficient credit,” Jared countered, but he did not suppress his own smile. He enjoyed seeing a sense of happiness and frivolity in his mate.

“What brings you here, Jared?” Jensen asked. It was still quite early—only an hour or so past the midday meal.

“I have come to show you where your weapon’s training will take place. Is that not what you asked of me just last week?” Jared replied, his stoic expression belied the question in his voice.

“Yes,” Jensen ignored the contradiction. This was what he wanted. “Misha can finish here today. Can you explain a few things to him?”

The prince nodded his agreement, and when Misha expressed his understanding, the prince held out a hand to Jensen. “Come now, Jensen. There are many things I wish to show you along our walk today.”

Jensen stared at the hand, but did not make a move to take it. Misha remained motionless behind him. The room was silent.

“Jensen,” Jared’s voice held a low warning. It was soft but firm. “You can take my hand or we can walk with my arm around your waist. The choice is yours.”

The younger man swallowed heavily, unable to take his eyes off the prince’s proffered hand. “Can’t we simply walk side-by-side?” He offered sheepishly.

“If it is easier, I could carry you,” Jared replied in that same firm tone.

“Hands!” Jensen blurted out as he reached forward to grab Jared’s hand just as the older man started pulling it away.

Behind him, where Jensen could not see, Misha suppressed a grin. He held his laughter back until the door slid closed behind the prince and his chosen mate. And the last words Misha heard from them that day were Jared’s:

“That was not so hard, was it?”

 

_______________________

  


The first twenty minutes of their walk were a blur; Jensen could not take his focus off their connected hands. Jared’s hand felt a little warmer than his own. He wondered if that was normal, if Fayarians were naturally warmer than his own people. Jensen had never held hands with anyone before. Well, not since he was very young and held his mother’s, and he did not remember how that had felt, it was so long ago.

The prince held Jensen’s left hand securely in his right. Silently, Jensen wondered if he would feel anything different if it was the other way around, and the bracelet on Jared’s left wrist touched his skin. He did not think he would, but the idea made a tingle creep up his spine anyway. He dipped his head to hide the smile that flared without conscious effort.

With their hands joined, they walked closely together—there was no mistaking that they were, indeed _together_. Jensen tried to shrink behind the prince’s greater size when people passed them, but Jared pulled him forward, speaking clearly in Pershebian, “You need not hide your status, Jensen. While not all will accept you, it is not because you walk at my side, it is merely due to the place of your birth and your importance to the throne.”

That seemed an interesting thought, but before Jensen could frame an appropriate response, they stopped along a corridor with a huge section of doors along one side.  They were the same dull gray color of the rest of the corridor, but accordioned like they would splay open in either direction if you opened them right.  “This is the shooting range,” Jared explained, peeling back a small section of the panels so that Jensen could peek inside. “We will return tomorrow, I have arranged time for us after the midday meal.”

“Can you not go whenever you want?” Jensen asked.

Jared laughed bitterly, “That would make me the ‘spoiled Royal’ Fredric described, would it not?”

Even now, the name made the hair on Jensen’s skin rise. “Yes, I suppose it would,” he mumbled in reply.

“Come,” Jared distracted him, “There is more to see.” For the first time since the night they tested the elixir, Jared sounded like a child eager to show a playmate new adventures. Jensen actually felt giddy with excitement.

They passed more food in an hour than Jensen had ever seen in an entire day! Jensen rubbed his eyes in disbelief. “How many levels are there on this vessel?” He asked as they boarded yet another shuttle that would take them to another, more distant limb of the ship that they had yet to visit.

“I will let you count them for yourself as you become more accustomed to the ship,” Jared replied, rubbing his thumb along the soft skin on the back of Jensen’s hand. The doors opened just then. “Come, let me show you one of my favorite places.”

Before long, they had past two more eateries, a barber, a theater (whatever that was), two clothiers, and a sundary where the ship's inhabitants could purchase those items that made day-to-day life easier.  Soaps, razors, even funny smelling liquids that made Jensen sneeze when he took a whiff. It all started to make sense. These people lived here for years at a time. Now, he did too. So all their needs had to be met aboard the ship. No wonder the agritories were so important. Jensen thought he could help to make them much more productive.

“We are here!” Jared exclaimed, shooting a quick glance at the visual panel. The guardsmen stopped short of the door and only the prince and his chosen proceeded into the room.

Jensen scanned the room in wonder. It was not large, but it was lined, floor-to-ceiling, with shelves that were packed with books. Some appeared older than the few ancient texts Jensen had actually had the opportunity to see, and others looked to be brand new. He stopped in place.

“Come over here first,” Jared encouraged, holding a hand out to his mate again.

Jensen did not remember dropping his hand from the prince’s grasp, but now he approached warily again. Slowly, a window of some kind came into view. He stared out in wonder. Never before had he seen such a sight. “What is that?” He asked, unable to mask his wonderment.

“It is space,” Jared replied simply. He pointed toward the portal. “See the brightest lights?” When Jensen nodded he continued, “Most of those are stars, like your own _Abeil,_ but some of the lights are planets like Pershebe and Fayar.”

Jensen gasped, his eyes still wide in wonderment. “So, there are lives on all these worlds?”

It did not occur to Jared to laugh at his mate’s naiveté. How could Jensen know differently? “No, not all planets have the ability to sustain life. Most do not, but those that do offer many wonderful adventures and treasures.”

Jensen stiffened ever so slightly, but Jared was quickly learning to read his mate. “What bothers you, Jensen?”

“Is that what I am?” He asked quietly.  “Am I another adventure?”

“No,” Jared answered easily.  “You are my partner. My love. My chosen mate for this life and many more if you grant that to me, and I will never have another.” He hoped the sincerity of his words meant half as much to Jensen as they meant to him.

Jensen gulped and turned back toward the portal, staring out silently for a few minutes. There was just too much to take in all at once.

The prince waited quietly for several minutes before pulling his mate away from the stars. “Come, Jensen,” he whispered, “Look around.” Jared gestured toward the shelves and their contents before moving out of Jensen’s way.

The Pershebian slowly walked down a row of books, pulled one out, glanced at it and replaced it before pulling out another. “This cannot be!” He exclaimed.

“It is,” Jared confirmed, strolling behind him and placing a casual arm over Jensen’s shoulder.

Jensen pulled out another book and opened it a little past halfway only to find blank pages. He held it up to the prince. “What of this?”

“Partially translated,” Jared explained, reaching for another much older book that was shelved beside the one Jensen had grabbed. The prince opened it, revealing pure Pershebian text. “Someone began the translation, but never completed the project.”

“Are these all Pershebian books?” Jensen asked, glancing around the small library.

“Of Pershebian origin,” Jared corrected, “Yes. Many have been translated completely, some partially, and others still wait to be interpreted. But they were all written by Pershebians.”

“So,” Jensen pondered, “Captives from Pershebe have written all of these?”

“As hard as it still is for you to understand,” Jared began, taking the text from Jensen’s hands and pulling the younger man into an embrace. “Once I claimed you, you became Fayarian, as have all chosen mates. Many on Fayar do not understand the concept any better than you do right now, but I feel it, I always have. Your _Elders_ understand it as well, and they would no longer recognize you as their own. Your father will soon join their ranks, if he has not already, so while he would greet you familiarly, he would refer to you as Fayarian, as would they all.”

That was a low blow, as far as Jensen was concerned, and he tried to draw away from the prince. Even if it were true, why would Jared tell him so? He pulled at Jared’s arms, but could not gain his freedom.

“Because you need to hear it, Jensen,” Jared insisted, holding his mate firmly.

The Pershebian-- _could he still refer to himself that way?--_ did not realize he had spoken his thoughts aloud. Had he?

Jared continued without pause, “You need to know that you have only one home now. It is on Fayar, with me, and I will always take care of you.” He held Jensen tight after that and waited for the fight to leave him. “To answer your original question, these texts were not written by the chosen mates of the heirs of Fayar. They were written by your scientists and given as gifts to King Julian when he left your planet. Chosen mates, though, have completed all the translations. While all Royals speak Pershebian, each mate seems to have a certain special knowledge or talent that helps to unlock more and more of this precious knowledge. I am certain that your contributions will be just as significant.”

“Why would I?!” Jensen demanded as anger flowed through his veins and colored his face. He pulled away from the prince with a newfound strength, shocked as he was by this development. Jensen took a few steps backward, never taking his eyes off of the prince. A wounded sneer obscured his beautiful face. “Why would I share such precious knowledge with you?”

Jared did not flinch at the barbs Jensen hurled. His mate was frightened by what he had learned, and the least the prince could do was offer a strong front, no matter how concerned or hurt he was. He remembered telling Jensen that he could say anything he wanted as long as none others could hear, and there was no reason to renege on that promise now.

The prince came closer, not daring to reach out and make contact just yet. “I do not know,” he admitted in a whisper, “But I would gladly share all I know with you.”

Jensen slumped forward, as if the fight had left him completely. It was all Jared could do to catch him before he hit the ground. The prince pulled his mate into his arms and cradled him there. When he left the library, his gaze was met by three sets of steely, accusatory eyes. “Enough!” He ordered the guardsmen, “Just lead us to our rooms!”

His mate remained slack, but breathing in his arms throughout the trip, and Jared silently wondered if he had revealed too much for one day.

Slowly, reverently, he washed his mate, fed his mate, and prepared him for bed. Jensen was not asleep, but he was not participating either, so Jared found it difficult to enjoy the close contact and the time spent together.

Instead, he guided Jensen to the bed and lay down behind him, pulling the blankets up to cover them both. “Good night, my love,” he whispered, without expecting to receive a response. He did not.

 

____________________

  


Jensen woke the next day feeling particularly hungry. His stomach even growled.

“I am sorry,” Jared said, like he was answering a question. “I could not get you to eat much last night. “But there is much to eat this morn.”

Jensen looked at the display and remembered what had happened. “I—I believe I overreacted,” he began softly. “It seems I was holding you accountable for all of my losses.”

“It is understandable,” Jared sighed, picking up a sliver of collfish—something he knew Jensen was particularly fond of—and offering it to his mate’s lips as a peace offering. When Jensen took the bite, Jared continued, “I might have revealed too much to you at one time.”

“No,” Jensen spoke thoughtfully, after he finished his bite. “I would rather know. I think it is the best way to approach my life.”

Jared’s heart fluttered, but he kept the smile from plastering itself across his face. He was not a star-struck schoolgirl. He was a prince. The Heir of Fayar! “It is good to hear,” he mumbled. That was all he could manage against the pounding beat of his pulse.

“I should stop by the laboratory before we go to the range, I think,” Jensen said when the prince did not continue. Their conversation seemed more stilted than it had been for several weeks now.

“It is already midday, Jensen,” Jared replied, quickly recovering himself. “We are due on the range shortly or we will relinquish our turn.”

“Well then, lead the way,” Jensen bowed low with a grin. He was looking forward to the lesson. And after the emotion of yesterday, physical exertion today would be more than appreciated.

As they wandered the halls, again hand-in-hand, Jensen’s eyes wandered as well. Yesterday, it had been about new hallways and shuttles and shops, but today he took the time to observe the finer details. And they were even more amazing. Even the hull of the vessel held both sparkling and dull treasures upon which Jensen never expected to lay eyes on again. He rubbed his hand along the walls to confirm what his eyes observed. And the temperature changes did just that. He relaxed a bit more, because just like in the agritory and the library, here in the hallway, Pershebe was all around him.

 

_____________________________

  


Jensen woke up, completely flushed. He panted out a few breaths and pushed his hips forward into…nothing.

It took Jensen a moment to recover enough from his forgotten dream to remember where he was, and as soon as he did, he stilled as quickly as he could. The prince was a solid presence behind him. Jared’s breaths were deep and even, so Jensen ventured a hand down to feel the swell of his own cock through his sleep pants. After a few minutes of that, he decided the sensation was not quite enough, and, pausing long enough to ensure that the prince had not stirred, Jensen pulled his stiff cock through the slit in his pants. He would have preferred to lower them, but did not want to risk wakening the prince.

He palmed it experimentally for a moment or two before tugging on it like Jared had shown him so many weeks ago. It was not long before his breathing sped up and his hips began to move ever so slightly. It took everything in him to stop and gather himself, slow down and calm his breaths—the last thing he wanted to do was rouse the prince.

He started again with the same casual brush against his shaft when he felt a sudden sting across the back of his hand.

“No!” Jared ordered in a firm voice. It was far different than the softer tones Jensen was becoming accustomed to.

“What?” Jensen gasped. He tried desperately to tuck himself away, but in his current…state, it was an impossible task.

Mistaking Jensen’s actions for an attempt to take himself in hand again, Jared pinned his mate’s arm to his side. “I have told you that some decisions will always be mine, and while I will listen to you, you will not always have your way,” Jared explained confidently.

“But…” Jensen began to argue, the heat in his groin rising quickly as he struggled, with little gain, against the prince.

“Do not fight me!” Jared commanded. “I am not forcing anything upon you except my will.” He continued to hold the younger man’s arms firmly at his sides as he turned him onto his belly, but did not proceed to cover him with his body. “Do not worry, I will not demand that you seek relief from me, only that you do not receive relief anywhere else.” The prince smirked as he peered down at Jensen’s prone form.

“Why?” Jensen asked, his voice cracking and half-lost in the pillow even as his hips continued to push down into the plush linens.

Jared stilled them immediately with just the pressure of his larger frame. “Because it is time to move forward, my love.” Jared’s voice softened considerably, even if his grip did not. “Have you not benefitted from the decisions I have made for you? The choices I have suggested _you_ make?” He leaned closer and whispered against Jensen’s ear, “Are you not better off for venturing out? With the exception of Fredric’s attack—which you handled admirably—have you not profited from your adventures aboard?”

The prince paused long enough for Jensen to reply, and when no response came, he flipped his mate over and made a mental note of Jensen’s aroused state before speaking again. “If you had remained hidden in these rooms, what would have happened to your precious fruit? Would you have met a friend or gained the loyalty of my guardsmen? Would you have found the desire to live? I think not.”  He ran a hand down Jensen’s flank in a gentle, calming manner—more like he would touch a spooked animal than caress a lover. “I think that there are times you need my help, Jensen. I most certainly need to give it. Trust me, Jen.” He was whispering beside Jensen’s ear again. In this position, Jared could see the younger man’s erection sneaking out of sleep pants; it made his own stir. “Give me this. I crave it, and you will grow to enjoy it. I truly believe that.”

Jensen thought for several moments, trying his best to wish away the arousal in his groin. He had gone without touching himself in such a way for twenty tides, would it be so difficult to live without it now? “And in turn? If I do not give myself relief, what do I receive?”

Jared grinned, suppressing a laugh as he met Jensen’s sincere gaze. The younger man thought he could bargain again. Why not? It had worked for him in the past? “Oh Jensen, do not mistake my meaning. That is not an option. You may _not_ give yourself relief. Your choice is simple, you may seek relief from me or receive none at all.”

Jensen started to stiffen, but before he could speak, Jared covered his mouth with a hand. He looked down at his mate’s continued arousal and then he loosened his hold. “But when you do seek it, and eventually you will, I suspect you will receive a satisfaction beyond what you believe possible. And after that, to celebrate our strengthening bond, you will take your place at my side on the Command Deck.”

Jensen wiggled away from the prince and huffed out his frustration as he made his way to the bath with his hands in front, covering himself.

“Do not disobey me in this, Jensen!” The prince called out in warning. “You will find yourself under constant guard—in these quarters and out—and with a reddened bottom as well. And I will not care who is here to see me do it.”

Jensen slammed the door and leaned against it. Gods! Those words alone should have been enough to dampen his ardour, but he remained startlingly aroused. Rather than sink beneath the warm water of the bath, he ran cold water in the sink and splashed it wherever he could reach.


	10. Chapter 10

More than a week had passed since the prince made his demand, and so far Jensen was…adjusting. It was not as easy as he expected, but he had no intention of asking Jared for _that_.

“Jensen?” Misha asked tentatively.

“Hmmm…what?” Jensen replied without focus.

“Where are you?” The agrician inquired.

Jensen shook his head and looked around. “That is a silly question. I am here, in the agritory, with you.”

Misha grinned and nodded in response. “That is good. For a minute I thought you were gone, and I would have to do this alone.”

Jensen refrained from replying, he simply jumped down from the small table where he sat, and frowned at his friend as he did. They had important experiments to conduct, and Jensen needed to remain focused on that.

He took his small bowl of elixir and walked over to a plot of useless plants— _weeds_ , Misha called them. They had discussed the procedure in depth, Jared acting as translator for the words Jensen still did not know, so it was no surprise when Misha dropped to the ground beside him, his own small bowl and brush in hand.

After they carefully painted the leaves of half the weeds, and marked the plot so it was clear which plants were “experimental,” and which were “controls,” Jensen sat back and stared at them.

Misha was looking around the agritory. His gaze stopped on the patch of _Pelunga_ bushes not too far away. He nudged Jensen’s shoulder and pointed toward the other plot. Through a series of words and gestures he managed to make his point: The bushes had made little progress in the last two weeks. They were not dying, not even wilting, but they were not growing, either.

“Dormancy,” Jensen replied as soon as he understood what Misha was trying to ask. And then he proceeded to do his best to explain the concept. “Um...it is normal. They need time to adapt and accept the changes they have made before they can continue to grow and blossom.”

Even though he was certain that Misha could not possibly understand his half-Pershebian, half-Fayarian mishmash of words, the agrician smiled and nodded his understanding. “Yes, it takes time.”

Those were words Jensen understood.

 

_________________________   


  
Jared arrived back in their quarters early. He was still unsure what he would do. How he should handle this. Two hours earlier, the oldest of Jensen’s guardsmen had arrived on the Command Deck to report an  
  
incident, and Jared was unable to continue his duties after that. Fortunately, the general was there to assume command and quietly usher Jared off to deal with the situation. General Beaver was indeed a wise man and great ally, so no one else on the Command Deck was aware of the event or Jared’s emotional response to it.  


Even now, Jared was no better off. After two hours reflecting on the occurrence, he still had no idea how best to respond. He tried to recall lessons long since learned, and returned to the earliest again, hoping that one might apply.

The way he understood it, Jensen and Misha had finished applying the elixir to selected plants in the agritory, and as they were returning to the laboratory, Jensen stopped and placed a hand against the ship’s hull, tilting his forehead forward until it touched the metal, encouraging Misha to do the same.

According to Steven, the chief of Jensen's guard detail, a guardsman from a different detail was passing from the other direction, and being one of their own, Jensen’s contingent of guardsmen deemed him “low risk.”

Although no actual physical injury had occurred, according to Steven, the other man apparently slapped Jensen’s hand away from the ship wall and hissed, “ _Remove your hand! You do not deserve to touch her!_ ” before Misha stepped between the man and Jensen, and Charles, the second senior guardsman tackled the transgressor to the ground.

Steven had reported that Jensen claimed no injury and behaved as if he expected such an occurrence, proceeding on to the laboratory to continue his work.

It was Jared who was unable to continue. And still, two hours later, he sat, unsure of how to proceed.

The door opened and Jensen entered, startled by the prince’s presence. “Jared, you are early.”

“Sometimes I cannot wait to see you,” Jared replied, crossing the room quickly. His mind settled as soon as he saw that Jensen was indeed unharmed. A plan formed in his mind at the same time, one that would have to wait until after their evening meal.

They made much more progress than just with language during their evening lessons. Tonight would be no different.

 

______________________________   


  
Jared listened as Jensen recited the letters, making the sound of each as he did. When he finished that first basic lesson, Jensen repeated as many letter combinations and their sounds as he could remember.  It was a drill, something he did each evening at the start of the lesson.  


Jared leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, listening as Jensen continued. Sometimes he forgot how deep Jensen’s voice was, despite his youth, and the timbre washed over him. He found it surprisingly soothing. Jared opened his eyes when Jensen stopped, only to see his mate staring at him curiously. “You forgot, ' _ph',"_ Jared said, quickly pulling Jensen against his chest. He smiled when he felt Jensen’s body shudder with laughter, and he started to laugh himself.

The prince waited a few minutes before he broached the subject of the afternoon events. “Steven, the guardsman, told me that there was an incident in the corridor today,” Jared began, as casually as he could. He even managed to reach for his drink.

“Steven?” Jensen turned so he could see Jared’s face.

“The oldest of your contingent? Surely you remember him.”

“Oh, _E_ _lder_ ,” Jensen surmised aloud.

Jared nearly spat out his drink. “ _Elder_ _?_ You gave him a name of your own making rather than asking him for his own?”

Jensen turned away, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “I thought of the names before I knew them.”

“ _Names_?” Jared questioned, “Not just Steven, you gave them _all_ names?” Seeing Jensen’s hesitant nod, he continued, “What name did you give Charles, the second in command? And Richard? He is the one who sometimes seems so light-hearted, unless his attention is truly required.”

Jensen buried his face in the prince’s chest. He was beyond embarrassed. “Please,” he mumbled.

Jared gently lifted his mate away from his body, brushing his hair out of his face. “You need not be discomfited, I am merely curious as to where your mind took you in those bleak, early days.”

“The second is _Fighter_ and your wily guard is _Joker_ ,” Jensen replied hurriedly, his head bent down to avoid the prince’s eyes.

“Ah, I can see how you came to those conclusions,” Jared agreed, lifting his mate's chin in an attempt to gain his attention. "And the fourth, what did you name him?"

Jensen cringed, drawing back from the prince as much as he could within the confines of the older man's arms.  " _Unfortunate,"_ he whispered, allowing the prince to raise his chin as he did, hoping to catch a glimpse of recognition at the name, if there was one.

"Hmm," Jared mused instead.  "That name seems apt as well.  He used the thumb that had held Jensen's chin to rub across his lips softly, like he was coaxing words to spew out.  “Tell me what happened today?”

“Nothing of importance,” Jensen replied easily.

“Really?” Jared countered, “It seemed of enough import to bring Stev— _Elder_ —to the Command Deck. Why would an assault on you be of more importance to him than it is to you?”

“It was not so much an _assault_ as an _insult_ ,” Jensen explained, pulling himself farther away from the prince. Jared did not resist the move, his mate was not pulling away, he was merely seeking eye contact. “I did not feel a threat.”

“Okay,” Jared rubbed his chin as if in thought, “Did the unfamiliar guard's words or actions make you uneasy?”

“When you put it like that, I guess so, yes,” Jensen replied honestly. It was the first time he had thought of it from that perspective.

“Oh, Jensen!” Jared exclaimed, pulling his mate into a tight embrace, “When someone causes you discomfort, you must tell me!”

“You cannot fight all my battles, Jared,” Jensen mumbled against the prince even as he hesitantly moved his arms to a more comfortable position encircling Jared’s chest.

“I can!” Jared vowed.

“I do not want you to,” Jensen whispered, almost to himself, “I need to know that I am still me.”

“You are still you, my love.” Jared moaned against his mate’s ear, “I know that because only you can both tame and inflame me. Only you can make me think and leave me deprived of thought. Only you can fulfill my needs and still leave me wanting.  You have a true power over me.”

Jensen turned his head to the heat in the prince’s voice alone. And right there, without even seeing them, he felt Jared’s lips. His breaths came short and he faltered for a moment, unsure of what path to take. Suddenly, the prince pulled him in tighter—if that was possible. Jensen could feel the strength of the prince’s arousal against his own, and for some strange reason, that offered comfort in this particular moment. Perhaps he did have the power to affect the prince, but the ability to use that newfound influence was lost on the younger man at the moment as he let himself relax into the embrace and felt a strange warmth low in his belly.

Jared’s grip loosened when he felt Jensen give in, and he allowed his hands to explore a bit. He pressed his mouth against those lush lips that had been calling to him for weeks now, and enjoyed his first taste of his aroused mate. Jared’s hand moved up to cradle the back of Jensen’s head and pull him gently closer. He wanted to taste his mate, but he did not want to scare Jensen away.

It seemed Jensen had an agenda of his own, and the second Jared touched the back of his head, he let out a low moan. His lips parted, and his tongue wandered out to caress Jared’s lower lip hesitantly.

Jared groaned in response. He captured the younger man’s tongue with his own. When Jensen was left panting, Jared dived in and explored his mate’s mouth. The feeling was more than anything he had expected. He had kissed before, what grown man had not? But this was different. This was his life and his love and everything he could ever want. And Jensen was _giving_ it to him.

Jared pulled away while he still had some semblance of cohesive thought. He was breathing as hard as his mate was. “Jensen,” he panted, never stopping his passionate exploration of his mate’s body. Glistening beads of sweat now made the glide of his hands easier. “Gods! Tell me now if you do not want to continue.” It was all the prince could do to stay still long enough to hear his mate’s—hopefully his lover’s—response.

“I-I…” Jensen stammered, “I want to feel something, please. Just not like the first time.”

Jensen was rubbing himself against the prince, but some of the overwhelming need left Jared with those words. Perhaps that was a good thing. He maneuvered Jensen’s body so that one of his arms rested easily behind Jensen’s knees, and the other cradled his shoulders, and then he rose and started walking to _their_ bed. Upon hearing the fear-laced arousal in Jensen's tone, it became easier to curtail his lust. “I can give you that,” he whispered softly, nuzzling Jensen’s neck. “I want to give you that.”

Laying his willing mate down on the bed and stripping him caused Jared’s already painfully hard erection to scream out for attention, and he had to peel his own clothes away. Even as it jutted out before him, Jared silently vowed to keep his cock to himself, for tonight.

Jared hovered over his mate. “Whatever you want, my love,” he whispered, letting his fingers caress the exposed skin beneath him. “Do you want my mouth or my hand?” He asked as he feathered light touches along Jensen’s rock-hard shaft. Even though he heard it in Jensen’s tone, it was good to feel his arousal in his flesh.

“M-mouth?” Jensen gasped, feeling Jared’s hands start to explore more seriously.

“You want my mouth,” Jared let Jensen’s question stand as an answer as he crawled slowly down his mate’s body. Jensen, even in his innocence, was clearly not objecting. His hips were pushing up toward the prince. “Relax, I will take care of you,” Jared insisted.

The prince leaned over and swallowed down as much of his mate’s silky smooth cock as he could in one pass. It was a first for him, but it felt like something he had desired his whole life.

Jensen groaned and bucked up into the heat on instinct. And even though it made Jared choke, he pulled off with a grin. “Stay still,” he chided, “This is not just _your_ first time.” Almost before the words left his lips, he slid back down along his lover’s cock. It was easier this time, already slicked with his spit. Jared started an easy rhythm. With one hand, he held Jensen’s hips in place. And with the other, he explored new territory: Jensen’s nipples, his flank, his thigh, his tight, round balls.

With every lick and suck, every touch of Jared’s fingers, Jensen’s moans grew louder and more distraught. Jared was on the verge of concern when his mate wrapped his hands around the prince’s head and stilled, groaning like his last breath was leaving him. Jared braced for what was coming, he was still incredibly aroused and he wrapped a hand around his own cock, but not knowing what Jensen would taste like made it difficult to find his own release. He hoped he would like the flavor.

Jensen screamed out as he climaxed. His hips bucked up now that Jared had let them go, and he pushed forward into the willing heat for a few seconds until he felt the last of his effort drain from him. He sank down into the bed and struggled to regain his control.

He floated in some altered state of euphoria for what seemed to be a lifetime, but it could not have been more than a matter of minutes, because by the time Jensen returned to their bed, in their quarters, on their ship, Jared was still hovering above him. Jared was staring down at him; his breathing was heavy and sweat dripped from his temples and the tip of his nose. Jensen glanced down at the _slapping_ sound that drew his attention toward Jared’s hand as it worked his own cock hard and fast.

“No,” Jensen whispered, reversing their positions easily. The prince was obviously distracted, his hand froze mid-stroke, unsure what to do next. “Let me,” Jensen continued, reaching down, and brushing his hand against the prince’s.

Jared removed his hand completely at the sound of Jensen’s words. He laid back and allowed his lover to explore.

Even Jensen’s hesitant touches set him afire, and it was all Jared could do to hold off his orgasm long enough to make Jensen feel like he had earned it.

The prince would have lain there, together, forever, but there were issues to be addressed before they found sleep. He kissed Jensen’s cheek lovingly and left their bed. _Their bed!_

He grabbed an Illearian cloth, and used it to clean himself and his mate. It was the first time he had used it on Jensen’s skin since just before the Claiming. The younger man nearly purred at how the feel of the cloth added to the sensations he was already experiencing.

When he completed his task, and his mate was nearly asleep, Jared crossed the room and pushed keys on a touch panel that was normally hidden in the wall. Suddenly, three floor-to-ceiling portals opened around the room, displaying the universe around them and giving the night a magical, romantic feel.

Jensen, half asleep, mumbled, “You hid this from me?”

“No,” Jared replied, “I waited until you would appreciate it.”

 

_______________________________   


  
Jensen was excited, but nervous at the same time. He was looking forward to Misha’s reassurance. This was a big step for him, and no matter how much he wanted to take it, Jensen knew he could not do it alone.  


The door to the agritory slid open and Misha nearly burst with enthusiasm.

“What?!” Jensen asked.

“You are happy!” Misha exclaimed, glancing not at Jensen, but at the _Pelunga_ bushes behind him for verification. Sure enough, they were covered in tiny, bright green berries. Jensen was amazed. If they continued to mature until harvest time, this would be the greatest yield ever heard of on Pershebe.

 

***   


  
The two friends walked down the corridor. Even though Jensen was buzzing with excitement, Misha’s waves of reassurance were all that kept him on his path. He really did want to proceed. If he had not, Misha would not guide him there, that much Jensen was certain of. Nevertheless, he was not ready to do it alone. Jensen had not done this since his fifteenth turn. He did not need Misha’s words, there was more to their friendship than that.  


Jensen took a deep breath and reached a hand out to feel the wall as they walked. The temperature changes offered their own reassurances, and Misha reached out to feel them for himself. He nodded when he felt it and smiled in understanding.

They both stopped just outside the shop they were looking for.

“Ready?” Misha asked just loud enough for Jensen to hear.

Jensen took a deep breath, let it out, and nodded firmly in reply.

 

__________________________   


  
An hour later, Misha walked with him toward the Command Deck. Jensen ran a hand nervously through his hair. He had not expected his first trip there to come like this.  


He thought he would wake up one morn and Jared would take him along for the day, but instead, when he and Misha had left the shop,  _Elder_ told Misha what the prince wanted, and Misha explained it to Jensen as best he could.

Now, Jensen stood outside the largest scan panel he had seen on the entire vessel. He was afraid to look at it. But after a few grumbling comments, Misha whispered to him, “Your  guardsmen's eye scans will not allow you entry, nor will mine. We cannot knock, as the prince does not want it to appear as if you are requesting entry, so you must scan the panel yourself.”

It surprised Jensen that he understood Misha’s words and he wondered silently if his friend had been speaking in Fayarian or Pershebian.

“Go on,” Misha encouraged at Jensen’s hesitance.

It was only a second after his eyes sought the panel that the door slid open.

Jared walked toward him, immediately noticing the change. “Thank you,” he whispered so that no one else would hear. He ran his fingers through the shorter, yet still silky strands of brown-gold hair. “You were beautiful before, but now you are breathtaking.” The prince nuzzled his mate, offering the reassurance he thought Jensen needed.

“Not even an  _accepting_ Pershebian has ever been on this deck!” A determined voice called out, “Yet alone one with only a few recognizable words to offer.”

Jared growled, pulling his mate closer, and looking up to see who spoke. It surprised him to see that Major Parrack was the source of such vitriol. The major had served under him in many skirmishes; though that did not stop the prince from assuming a battle stance and preparing for a fight. Jared tried to push Jensen into the grasp of his guardsmen, but for some reason, the younger man would not budge.

"Stop!" General Beaver commanded.

The guardsmen quickly surrounded Jensen and that allowed Jared a moment to gather his thoughts and remember that he was more than just a “mate,” he was a Commander as well.

Before he could even consider his next words, he felt Jensen stand tall and step around him, moving his guardsmen to the side as he did. It seemed his mate understood more than the heir himself. Jared relaxed and allowed his chosen to make his presence known.

Jensen remembered the prince’s words clearly.  _Not all will accept you so easily._ This might be the first of many tests, but the sounds beating in Jensen’s ears from the speakers around the room forced him to speak.

He took a deep breath and proved his naysayer wrong with carefully chosen words in his new language. But while he spoke loud enough for all to hear, he directed his comments to the prince alone.

“Why do you choose to listen to that noise, My Lord?” He asked.

Even though the question was directed toward the prince, General Beaver was the one to answer. If he could extinguish the volatile situation, he would. “So far past the Radon Bands we can hear nothing else through our Comm channels. This noise, as you call it, with bits and pieces of words from other worlds as well as our own, is all we will be able to hear for another six months of travel.”

Jensen looked at him curiously. “And why would you choose to do so?”

Major Parrack interrupted contemptuously, “You see? He  does not have even the basic knowledge to understand our predicaments.” He turned to face the prince with his head bowed in deference. “Please, My Lord, must your  _toy_ play on our Command Deck?”

Jared growled and reached for his weapon, but before he had it unsheathed, the major was leveled to the ground by  _Fighter_ . Both  _E_ _lder_ and  _Jo_ _ker_ regained their positions around Jensen and scanned the room for other threats.

“Stop!” Jensen demanded, surprised to see everyone freeze at the sound of his voice. Apparently, it was not so common for a Pershebian mate to speak out on a Fayarian vessel. Then, he looked directly at the prince again and continued slowly in his new language, “Why would you choose to listen to the stagnant sounds of that barrier bouncing back at you when your vessel is filled with Nabottium?”

When every set of eyes on the Deck focused on him quizzically, he was forced to continue in Pershebian. He had exhausted most of his new language skills.  Pershebian was still far easier for him in such exacting conversations, and he hoped that he had already made his point. “I  _know_ that sound,” he told Jared sincerely.  “It is familiar to me from home, and, despite my youth, I have spent considerable time studying it.”

Jensen paused for a moment and looked around for something to use for a demonstration. He picked up a blank sheet of paper that looked like those he had seen in the back of the partially translated books, and held it up in one hand. With the other hand, he grabbed a stylus from a nearby monitor and punched hole after hole through the fragile paper until it shredded and slipped out of his hand in tattered scraps. It had no chance against the pummeling of the solid projectile. “And I know how to break through it!” He exclaimed.

Jared did not have time to demonstrate the pride he felt for his mate, he knew he would, but this was too important. He put his arm around his chosen, and ushered him toward the doors. He glanced toward the general and Major Parrack, indicating that they should follow him. As much as he would like to kill the major right now, the man had always been a brave, if not unusually outspoken, ally. He would have a lesson to learn when the time was appropriate, but for now, they had more important affairs to attend to—matters that might affect millions of lives, possibly more.

When the men arrived in the corridor, and the door slid closed behind them, Jared pulled Jensen in even closer. “I believe a conference is in order, gentlemen,” he ordered, “Have only the necessary personnel assembled in the Center one hour from now. We will meet you there.”

The prince nodded his dismissal, and Major Parrack returned the gesture formally, resuming his position on the Command Deck.

Before the general got far, Jared pulled him aside for a few words. “If it is possible to contact Fayar before my father will anticipate it, then we must be certain that only the most loyal of our crew know of that potential. Be certain that it goes no farther than that.”

Again, General Beaver nodded and reentered the Command Deck. Jared could already see the general and the major conversing quietly. He stood still, impatiently waiting for the door to close, and when it did, he wrapped his arms around Jensen and lifted his mate off the ground.

_Yes!_ Their partnership was indeed destined for greatness!

“I did not get my tour,” Jensen complained, half-heartedly. His grin was hidden against the prince’s chest, and silently, he was basking in the attention and the small victory.

“You have leave to tour whatever you want,” Jared said, reaching around to caress his mate’s firm ass for a moment. “I am so proud of you!” He continued more appropriately, “Come, we must change so we can meet with the select few who need to learn about the information you have, and what decisions that are to be made.”

They returned to their quarters and Jensen sprawled out on the bed while the prince headed into the bath to clean up. Once Jensen heard the water begin to run, curiosity overtook him, and he inched his way higher up on the bed. Slowly, he opened the drawer where Jared had placed the delicate box all those weeks ago. Without taking the box out, he lifted the lid. This was only the second time he had seen the oval medallion. It sparkled in the dim light of the room. He wondered to himself if this was just for him or if others had worn it before. With two fingers, he caressed the unfamiliar  crimson gemstone set in the twisted pattern of shiny, silvery metal he already knew so well. With his other hand, he felt the chain encircling his neck. More often than not, he forgot it was even there, but now, a tingle spread through his body and a grin crossed his face. What would it feel like if he put it on?  He would not, he knew, but still, he wondered.

The water shut off in the bathroom, so Jensen hastily replaced the lid and closed the drawer. He jumped off the bed, straightened his clothes, and waited for his turn to “freshen up.”

“Do not dawdle,” The prince warned as he came out. “We have much to discuss before the meeting.”

“Of course, My Lord,” Jensen responded to the sudden formality in kind while making his way to the bath. “Radon,” as they called it, Nabottium, and an appropriate delivery method, as well as the books he would need to retrieve from the library came to the forefront of his mind. All other thoughts were quickly forgotten.

Jared looked down at the crumpled bed linens once Jensen left the room. Then his eyes wandered toward the small bedside table. The drawer was not open, but it was not it completely closed, either. The prince reached out and pushed it all the way in. Had Jensen…? Jared shook his head to clear it. There was no sense in allowing himself to indulge in foolish daydreams and fantasies. They had work to do and people who were depending on them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While this is the end of "Acclimation," it is far from the end of the 'verse. Part three is short, a little under 5,000 words, but it will add a few characters that I hope enrich and further complicate the story. 
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me, and leaving such thought-provoking comments. I really do appreciate it. ♥


End file.
